


Lost in the Dark

by itsBudsey09



Series: SuperWolf: A Teen Wolf & Supernatural Fusion [1]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 47,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28611450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsBudsey09/pseuds/itsBudsey09
Summary: With Derek Hale missing and the McCall pack losing hope, they become unlikely allies with hunters Sam and Dean Winchester.  Tempers arise and chaos ensues as the team attempts to track down their friend and fight a new enemy to Beacon Hills- The Butcher. Can the Winchesters be trusted? Who could the Butcher be? Will Derek ever be brought home? Find out in 'Lost in the Dark,' an original fanfic by me, itsBudsey09.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski
Series: SuperWolf: A Teen Wolf & Supernatural Fusion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101794
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Teen Wolf and Supernatural universes. All characters are created and owned by Jeff Davis and Eric Kripke and I do not claim any ownership in them or the Teen Wolf/Supernatural worlds. The story I tell is my own invention and is not to be believed as any part of Teen Wolf or Supernatural canon. This story is for entertainment only and not part of the official story line. I will not be profiting from the creation or publication of this work. Big thanks to Mr. Davis and Mr. Kripke for their characters and the worlds they live in; without them, my story wouldn't exist. Enjoy!

"Where are we headed this time, Sammy?" 

Dean Winchester pressed his head against the warm leather of his headrest, taking a deep breath before leaning back forward and focusing on the road. They-- Dean and his younger brother, Sam, had been on the road for about twelve hours, only stopping a few times to refuel both themselves and their car. Twenty-five hours separated their home of Lawrence, Kansas, to their destination-- 

"Beacon Hills, California." 

"Beacon Hills, huh? Well, that doesn't sound too bad." 

"Well, get this, they've had over 25 people killed by 'animal attacks' in the past  
twelve years." 

"Let me guess, heart ripped out?" 

"Strangely enough, no, but still suspicious. And exactly what you're thinking--" 

"Werewolves. Yeah, I got it. Heard anything from Garth?" 

"He's the one who turned me onto this town. He had a friend, Laura Hale, who he used to  
visit whenever he made it to southern California. She came from a whole family of werewolves. Hasn't heard from her in at least a year." 

"And he hasn't thought to check in on her before now?" 

"Well, you know Garth." 

"Yeah, yeah..." 

Dean let the conversation die, leaving Sam to pour over the rest of the information he had on the California town. They were closing in on Santa Fe and Dean was hoping to find a cheap motel to stop for the night. Setting his eyes on the dull glow of neon, Dean exited the highway. He didn't say anything, but Sam was grateful to be stopping. His home was on the road, with Dean, but even a lifelong traveler gets tired of roaming sometimes. He looked down to this phone, no new messages. He hadn't heard from their mom, Mary, in almost three days now. She had asked for some time to herself, some time to adjust, and Sam couldn't help but be a little hurt. He never got to know his mother, she died when he was only six months old, and, even though he respected her decision, he desperately needed to know her. Desperately longed for the life he could have had had she lived. He sighed as the car slowed to a halt, reaching for the door handle before Dean even had the car in park. 

The Quikk Stop had 18 rooms, with 12 vacancies that night. Sam and Dean were given room 14, which sat along the west facing wall. Sam opened the door and the smell of moth balls was the first thing to hit him. The second was the wallpaper, which was the same color as pea soup. 

"Home sweet home!" Dean yelled, as he flopped face first onto the bed closest to the door. Sam knew it would only be a few minutes before Dean was fast asleep. He planned on staying awake for at least a few more hours. He had been in contact with a Beacon Hills resident, a recent local high school graduate who called himself Stiles. Stiles had a best friend, Scott, who was a werewolf, and that was only the start of the stories Stiles had to tell. Werewolves, kitsunes, Hell Hounds and banshees were just a few of the creatures they had been in contact with over the past few years. There were things that Sam hadn't even heard of, and he had been hunting the supernatural for over twenty years. By some miracle, these high-schoolers-- with the help of a few sane adults-- had managed to keep everything under control, but Stiles was worried the peace wasn't going to last. Sam had told Dean about Garth's missing friend and her werewolf family, but he hadn't told Dean that he had heard about the Hale family long before he had gotten in contact with Garth. 

Stiles first e-mailed Sam Winchester almost two weeks ago, after spending a solid thirty-six hours online reading stories of the Winchester brothers and the "hunting" they did across the country. He was hesitant on contacting Sam-- his girlfriend was a banshee; his best friend was a werewolf and everyone else he seemed to love had some connection to the supernatural. The Winchesters didn't exactly sound like the type of people who let supernatural creatures live in peace. Stiles had met hunters in the past, he didn't like them. In fact, they had found it hard to get them out of Beacon Hills and now he was willingly bringing two of them back in. Two of the most famous, most renowned hunters. He had heard Allison mention the Winchesters a few times; she spoke of them like they were the stuff of legend. They had killed vampires, werewolves, wendigos, even taken on God himself, but Stiles was desperate. Derek Hale was missing. 

Sam never quite understood the connection between Stiles and Derek. Stiles was so open on his love and feelings for Scott, Lydia, Malia, Liam and the rest of the members of Beacon Hills, but, spoke about Derek as simply a community member. Sam could see something underneath it all though. While Stiles lived in a museum for the weird and otherworldly, he spoke of Derek like he was the prized possession-- a relic that could never be replaced. Even though Sam didn't quite understand, he felt the need in Stiles' words, the desperation to regain something that was lost, something that could have been. Sam felt the same way about Mary. This was one of the reasons he was so adamant about their travelling to Beacon Hills. Sure, an entire town demonized by the supernatural was interesting enough, but a monster isn't created until the pain sets in. A monster isn't a monster until it hurts someone. And Stiles was going through a world of hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though their room was facing west, the entire wall of mirrors behind the beds made sure that Sam and Dean were awake as soon as the sun was up. 

"Who designed this?" Dean grumbled as he pulled his pillow over his head. Sam, of course, was already dressed, slipping on his shoes to leave the room in search of caffeine. Dean wasn't sure how he did it. He knew that Sammy would stay up so much later than him, spending his entire life on his laptop, and barely slept in the car, yet, always had the energy to get up at the crack of dawn and start the day. Dean probably would have fallen back asleep if it wasn't for the ringing of his phone. He reached across the bed and pulled it out from underneath the pillow. Eyes still blurry, he read the name etched across the screen: CASTIEL. He smiled and put the phone up to his ear. 

"Hello?" 

"Dean. Where are you?" 

"Santa Fe. Is something wrong?" 

Dean always seemed annoyed with everyone he spoke to, but always had the time to be patient with Cas, his closest friend. Dean felt an ache in his chest as he thought about Cas sitting alone in the bunker, feet propped up on the table, that same old trench coat dangling over the side of the chair. Dean hated the thing, but couldn't imagine Cas without it. Couldn't imagine his own life without it. 

"Have you heard from Mary lately?" 

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his mother's name. He had gotten so use to only thinking of her as a distant memory that it was hard for him to imagine her being a living being again. It was almost like she wasn't real, so, when someone else talked about her, like the living, breathing woman she was, it helped Dean realize that it WAS real, that his mother was really back. 

"No, but Sammy is usually the one keeping up with her. Why? Are those British pricks up to something again?" 

"I'm not sure. Something just doesn't feel right, Dean." 

"Well, call me when you find anything concrete. And Cas? Be safe." 

"I will, Dean." 

The silent 'I love you' was there. From what end, one couldn't be sure, but it lingered in the air like the last bit of fog on a cold, spring morning. Dean put the phone down and rubbed his face, deciding he was up for good and that more sleep wasn't an option. Besides, Sam would be back any minute and they would have to be back on the road again. They still had another thirteen hours before they reached Beacon Hills. Despite his hatred of flying and his love for being on the road with his Baby, sometimes Dean sure wished they could use air travel more frequently for the longer journeys cross-country. His feet hit the beige carpet and he stretched before standing up. His body was stiff after an entire day in the car, sitting in one spot for hours on end. He reached into his bag for a new set of clothes just as he heard the door unlock. Even though he knew it was Sam, he felt himself reaching for the pistol that was in the drawer next to his bed. Almost thirty years of hunting supernatural beings made one skeptical, at best, at whatever could be on the other side of the door. The lock clicked once and the door slowly creeped open, Sam's tall frame filling up most of the doorway. He had coffee in hand, along with an assortment of whatever pastries the roadside motel had to offer. He threw a dry cinnamon roll at Dean, who caught it and ate half of it in one bite. 

"So, we'll be in Beacon Hills tonight. What else do I need to know about this place, Sammy? You mentioned it's full of werewolves, what other fun is there?" 

"I'm glad you asked. Get this: in the past four years, not only have the number   
of werewolves gone up by about 400%, but, banshees, Hell Hounds, the Wild Hunt, kitsunes" 

"Kitsu-what?" 

"A kitsune. It's a Japanese fox spirit." 

"Naturally. Go on." 

"All of these supernatural creatures have made their way to this one town. It's almost like their name is literal-- it's a beacon for monsters. I'm not sure what's calling them all there. I've been talking to one of the locals-- his name is Stiles Stilinski." 

"Who names their kid Stiles Stilinski??" 

"It's clearly not his real name, Dean, c'mon. Anyway, Stiles is kind of in the middle of everything: his best friend is an Alpha wolf, his girlfriend is a banshee, his ex-girlfriend is a were-coyote..." 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. A were-COYOTE? What does that even mean? And how could he be an Alpha werewolf? I thought there was only one." 

"I don’t think the werewolves in Beacon Hills are the same type of werewolf as we’re used to. From the information Stiles gave me, the pack in present-day Beacon Hills started from an old Native American tribe who wanted the ability to hide in plain sight and learned to shapeshift from local Druids. Remember yesterday when you were asking about missing hearts? The werewolves in Beacon Hills don’t rely on human hearts to survive. They’re still controlled by the moon but I think these are more shapeshifters who turn into wolves rather than the werewolf we are used to. And regarding the were-coyote, since you asked: these shapeshifters don’t always take the form of a wolf. Sometimes what is inside the person determines what animal they transform to. This girl must not fit the wolf stereotype and instead is more of a coyote. She's not the only one, either. A year ago, these... evil scientists, for lack of a better word, came into Beacon Hills and tried to create the perfect monster by creating genetic chimeras-- mixing werewolf venom with that of other predators. Were-coyotes. Were-chameleons. Were- wendigos. Were-scorpions." 

"Now that sounds cool. I could get down for a were-scorpion." Sam rolled his eyes. All of the information he just gave Dean, and the only thing he could focus on was a werewolf-scorpion hybrid. Didn't quite understand a were-coyote, but a were-scorpion was something he could get excited for. Typical. 

"The point is, Dean, something is going on in this town. Something is drawing all of these supernatural beings to this place. And, while it may be peaceful now, it's only a matter of time before something bigger and badder will step in and try to take over as the leader of the pack. Literally." 

Dean nodded. Even though Sam had just thrown a lot of information his way, the message was still the same: protect the innocent at all costs. Dean had come a long way in how he viewed the supernatural world. At first, it was kill anything that didn't belong. The only good monster was a dead monster. Over time, though, he realized that the monster form on the outside didn't always match the monster form on the inside. Never in a million years would he have thought he'd be best friends with an angel or have contact with a werewolf, but here he was. A world that he thought was black and white turned out to have a lot of grey areas, but, good versus evil was the battle he chose to fight now. Sometimes the good was a monster, sometimes the bad was a human. 

"Well, if we're going to help them out, we have to get there. Let's hit the road." 

They packed up the few belongings that they had (mainly weapons) and started the last leg of their journey to Beacon Hills.


	3. Chapter 3

Liam Dunbar hated peanut butter and jelly. There was just something about the texture that was never pleasing to him. Maybe he was just a picky eater, but he was never going to be one to cozy up to a PB&J sandwich after a long day. His best friend, Mason Hewitt, however, must have had no problem with the combination. A glob of peanut butter sat on the side of his mouth, stuck there after a bite too big, and it was all Liam could stare at as Mason was talking. He was sure the story was interesting; Corey, Theo and Hayden couldn't seem to stop listening, but he had no idea what Mason was talking about. All he could hear was the sound of his own voice screaming in his head 'PEANUT BUTTER. YOU HAVE. PEANUT BUTTER ON YOUR FACE.' 

"Liam, are you even listening? Mason asked you a question." 

The sound of Hayden's voice brought Liam back to reality, which was the opposite of how her voice usually made him feel. It was deep and husky and something about it made him want to curl up and listen to her all day long. She was beautiful, with her long dark hair and deep chocolate eyes. Ever since her turn into a werewolf, though, things hadn't been the same between her and Liam. He thought maybe it would bring them together, since they finally had something in common, but it really just drove them apart. It could have been because she died and was brought back to life, but, you know, that's just a minor thing that could have happened to anyone. In fact, it had happened to everyone at the table but himself and Mason. And with Mason it was questionable. He felt a smack to the back of his head, his anger starting to boil up inside of him as the pain creeped over his skin, into the nerves surrounding his skull. He shot around to glare at Theo Raeken who was grinning from ear to ear. 

"Wake up, Dumb-bar." 

"Haha, so original, Stray..ken... Rae-been-annoying..." 

"Keep trying, buddy." 

The sarcasm was thick in Theo's comment, hanging in the air as the group fell silent. 

"But, really, Liam, have you heard any updates about Derek?" 

Derek Hale was almost a kind of myth to Liam at this point. He was the werewolf who taught Scott, who, in turn, taught Liam the ins and outs of being a werewolf and how to control turning. Liam had only met Derek a handful of times, but he could see how important he was to Scott, Stiles and the rest of the older members of his pack. Liam shook his head. 

"No, I haven't heard anything. Scott has been in touch with Braeden and Peter, who is surprisingly more helpful than you may think." 

Peter Hale was Derek's uncle and notoriously too selfish for his own good. If the entire town was on fire and Peter was the only one who could stop it, he'd drink all of the water supply if he thought it might better himself and put him ahead of everyone else. The fact that he was actually helping in the search for his nephew was nothing short of a miracle. Another mystery shrouding Derek Hale: his ability to somehow bring out the humanity in Peter. 

"He even managed to get ahold of Kate Argent, who genuinely had no idea that Derek was missing. Something is definitely wrong. I can tell Scott is worried. Stiles is trying to downplay it to ease Scott's mind, but he's not doing the best job. You guys have never seen Stiles and Derek together-- I think they   
were closer than Scott and Derek, and Stiles is even more worried. I think he's trying to distract himself." 

The bell rang, surprising everyone in the group. Corey quickly kissed Mason on the cheek before almost sprinting out of the cafeteria-- his physics class was on the opposite end of the school and he knew he had to book it if he was going to make it during the three-minute pass period. Whoever thought someone could make it from the cafeteria to the science wing at a casual walk in under three minutes was kidding themselves. The rest of the group stood up leisurely, putting away books and stacking the trash from lunch into an organized pile to throw away. Mason returned to his Calculus book, trying to get some last second studying in before his test next period. Hayden smiled shyly at Liam before heading towards the English wing, leaving just Liam and Theo together to walk towards history class. History was always Liam's favorite subject, but having Theo there just dimmed the light on an otherwise easy class for him. He was always a distraction. 

"He's not dead." 

Liam was startled by Theo's words, not because of what he said, but because of how suddenly and surely he spoke them. 

"What? Who?" 

"Derek Hale. He's not dead." 

Liam pushed Theo off to the side, slamming him into a locker with a little more force than he anticipated. A few students turned to look at them, but, no one stuck around to see what the problem was. 

"Why? Who said something? What do you know?" 

Theo didn't have the best history when it came to his time in Beacon Hills. It was only a year ago that he killed several people-- including Hayden-- to try and gain more power and help the Dread Doctors reach their goal of creating the perfect monster. It had taken a lot of groveling and a lot of help in order to trust Theo enough to let him into his pack, and Liam was still very weary of him. Fool me once, shame on you and all of that. Liam could feel his blood begin to boil and knew his eyes were turning into the bright yellow that came with a werewolf shift. 

"Chill, Liam, calm down. I don't know anything. I just have a feeling is all." 

Liam let go of Theo's shirt, mumbling something about 'feelings' as he took a breath and tried to focus only on the sound of his own heartbeat. He had anger issues before he ever turned into a werewolf, so having it all amplified made it even more of a struggle to fight against the rage. 

"You gotta relax, man. I'm on your side, remember?" 

Liam gave a growl and Theo took a step back, just as the two of them closed in on their history classroom. They stepped inside and took their seats, Theo seated directly behind Liam, as Mr. Kistler walked in and started writing a timeline for the Peloponnesian War on the chalkboard. Theo gave a slight chuckle, barely a whisper. He knew ancient Greece was Liam's favorite. He reached up and gave Liam a slight poke with his pencil, just a small jab to remind him that everything was still good between them. Liam tensed for a moment and then relaxed, his shoulders finally leaving their semi-permanent place near his ears. He turned for a split second and whispered one word, 'sorry,' before turning back around. Theo smiled and settled into his own seat, slowly drifting off into a daydream as class started.


	4. Chapter 4

The Winchesters rolled into Beacon Hills around seven in the evening. The sun was just beginning to set and a dull glow lingered onto every building in the town. It was quiet, not something either of the Winchesters were expecting in the home of dozens of supernatural creatures, but sometimes looks could be deceiving. They passed by a large stone building, safely guarded by twelve-foot-high stone walls and a lot of barbed wire. Eichen House. An insane asylum. Nothing good ever came from a town with a mental institution that was guarded like a prison. Due to the lack of cheap, roadside motels, Sam and Dean were forced to stay at the bed and breakfast in town, Beacon Hills Inn. Sam hoped once he got in touch with Stiles, they would be able to find a better, more permanent place to stay. He opened his laptop and searched for their most recent interaction, an e-mail where Stiles also included his phone number so the Winchesters could easily contact him once they were in town. Sam closed himself in the bathroom of their tiny room and talked with Stiles for almost twenty minutes, finally emerging to find Dean wrapped up in his flower comforter like a cocoon, passed out cold. Sam sighed and got himself ready for bed. He knew the rest of the week was going to be long, and they might not get the chance to have a decent night’s sleep again. 

The next day Dean Winchester actually woke up before Sam, which was an event that took place maybe only two days out of the entire year. He decided he would take advantage of his momentous occasion and locked himself in the bathroom, his plan to use all of the hot water in the entire inn slowly coming to light as he filled up the claw-foot tub with scalding hot water. A bottle of pink crystals sat on the windowsill, along with various jars of creams and a scattering of rose petals. He twisted the lid off of the jar and gave a sniff. A horrible, artificial rose scent filled his nose and almost made him gag. After the initial shock of it wore off though, he decided it was kind of nice, and turned the bottle over to dump half of the crystals into his bath. The water immediately became frothy and the entire room smelled like his great-grandma. His content was obvious, though, as he took off his clothes and settled himself into the bath. It had been entirely too long since he was able to pamper himself like this. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had, besides that first hot shower at the Bunker. He had only just started to soak when he heard a knock at the door. 

“Dean? Dean? We need to get going. I told Stiles we would meet him at some diner at 8 AM.” 

“Ah, c’mon,” Dean mumbled, as he forced himself out of the tub. The pampering had to wait, as always. There was work to be done. He reached into the tub, giving a sharp pull on the stopper, and watched all of the steamy, pink water work its way down the drain. What a waste. 

Twenty minutes later, Sam and Dean reached The Hot Plate, a diner which sat only a block away from the Beacon Hills town hall. It looked just the same as every other diner they had been in across the nation: long, silver bar full of locals enjoying their daily coffee and chat with Sylvia, the waitress; both sides of the room lined with red, plastic booths; a jukebox in the corner, playing Tom Jones, because what else do you play on a jukebox in your typical American town? Yes, this may have been Sam and Dean’s first time in Beacon Hills, but they had been to this diner at least a couple hundred times before. Sam scanned the restaurant and his eyes settled on a few kids sitting in a booth in the back corner. There were two with dark hair: one wearing a t-shirt and the other in a long-sleeved flannel, looking like he could be related to the Winchesters, who were both donning flannel themselves. There was a red-headed girl with big eyes, leaning on the kid in flannel, and another girl with short brown hair, who seemed more interested in her plate of sausage than anything else going on. Sam nodded in their direction and the two brothers headed to the back corner. 

Sam cleared his throat, “Uh, Stiles?” 

The group of kids, teenagers at most, stopped everything they were doing and saying, turning to look at the two brothers. The boy in flannel jumped from his seat, searching the nearby tables for a few chairs to pull up. Everyone else looked surprised to see the two hunters standing there, almost like they had no idea they were going to be joining them. As it turns out, they did have no idea anyone would be joining them. Stiles had failed to mention to his friends that he had reached out to the Winchesters. 

“Uh, everyone, this is Sam and Dean Winchester.” 

“Winchester??” the red-headed girl hissed, “you mean the famous hunters that Allison   
used to talk about?” 

“Uh, yeah, one in the same....” 

Even though the table remained silent, every eye at the table was furiously moving in conversation. Stiles, the boy in flannel, desperately tried to apologize to the red-head, who Sam assumed must be the banshee Lydia Martin, as the other boy in the t-shirt (Scott McCall? Sam wondered) threw a confused look to everyone at the table, obviously not able to make any connections himself. The other girl, Sam assumed Malia Tate, but wasn’t entirely sure, threw death glances at everyone, the Winchesters included. Sam soon realized it was because they had interrupted her breakfast rather than the presence of the two brothers or the hidden truths coming to light from Stiles. 

“Ok, ok, guys, listen. They’ve agreed to help us find Derek, and I think you can all admit we   
could take all the help we could get.” 

The expressions on everyone’s faces changed. Lydia’s softened, her worry now transferring to Stiles rather than on the two strangers seated at her table. Scott’s face went from confusion to worry and Malia also threw on a grimace of desperation. These were kids who were used to solving the riddles, to cracking the codes and unveiling the mysteries. The fact that they still had no idea what had happened to their friend was something deeply troubling to all of them. Scott was the first to speak up. 

“Anyone who is willing to help us has to be a little crazy, which means they’ll fit in here   
just fine. I’m Scott McCall.” 

He reached his hand towards Dean, who only scowled. Sam reached across and took Scott’s hand, introducing both himself and his brother again. 

“It looks like you already know Stiles, and this is Lydia,” he motioned to the red-head, “and Malia,” he pointed at the girl with shorter, brown hair. Malia had already started working   
on her breakfast again, realizing that the Winchesters were no longer a threat to herself or her friends. 

“So,” started Sam, “why don’t you tell us everything that you know?”


	5. Chapter 5

The next hour was filled with Stiles, with a few interjections by Lydia and Scott, as he described the last time they had seen and heard from Derek Hale. Derek had willingly left the town about a year ago, joining his girlfriend, Braeden, alongside a group of Mexican hunters, to track down Kate Argent. While human, Kate had been a prevalent hunter herself, coming from the Argent family, world renowned werewolf hunters. However, in a bad meetup with Peter Hale, Kate had turned into a werewolf, and was now on the run. Derek knew the town of Beacon Hills would never be safe with Kate Argent roaming free, so he agreed to help hunt her down, to stop her from the killing spree she had been on. Kate was willing to hunt anything that stood in her way, whether that be supernatural beings, humans, children, etc. 

About three weeks ago, Derek and Braeden had returned to Beacon Hills with mentions of France and the need to rethink their plans before moving on after the She-Wolf. They had met up with Chris Argent, brother of the aforementioned She-Wolf, and were making headway on an idea, when Derek suddenly disappeared. It was the middle of the night; Braeden hadn’t even heard him leave. There was no sign of a struggle but he also hadn’t packed any of his things. It would seem he just took himself, the clothes on his back and left without a single trace. But no one believed this was the case. Derek would never just leave without telling someone where he was headed and he also wouldn’t have been taken without putting up a fight. 

A few days after his disappearance, Stiles had received a phone call from Derek, a plea to stop looking for him and that everything was going to be all right. They had attempted to find him by triangulating his phone, but, when they finally got a signal, the phone had been abandoned in the middle of a forest just outside of Salt Lake City. From there, the trail went cold. Everyone Derek seemingly cared about was still in Beacon Hills. His mission, finding Kate Argent, was screeching to a halt. Peter Hale had managed to get ahold of Kate (although his methods on how remained a mystery to everyone else) who said she was not even in the United States and she hadn’t heard heads nor tails from Derek in months, since he & his group of hunters closed in on Kate near Machu Pichu. Stiles’ father was the sheriff in Beacon County and had used the resources he had available to try and track Derek, only to be met with failure. The group whole-heartedly believed it had to have been something supernatural to cause Derek to go missing, which is why Stiles believed the Winchester brothers might be the best choice in help. 

Sam and Dean sat quietly during the entire story, Sam silently making mental notes when he thought of questions he needed to ask later. He had learned that it was best to let someone tell their story completely: his question might have been answered later and he didn’t want them to lose their train of thought and leave out any important details. 

“Did you ever think he just, met a girl and decided to live a normal life?” Dean threw a glance at Braeden, mumbling a quick sorry before turning back to the group. “I know any time I have come close to leaving this lifestyle is when I met someone, when I thought I could give it all up and be happy.” 

Stiles immediately interjected, “No. There is no way.” Malia interrupted him “I agree. If his soulmate being here wasn’t enough to make him stay, I doubt some random girl is going to keep him away from his family and friends.” Everyone at the table grew silent. Sam and Dean threw sympathetic glances towards Braeden, whose head had lowered so she couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. Sam noticed, though, that they were the only ones looking at her. Scott and Lydia had both turned their eyes towards Stiles. Even Malia had shot him a glance before slumping back into her seat, her eyes filled with the boredom that Sam had already grown accustomed to. Malia had literally been raised by coyotes and her answer to everything was to fight. He could tell that the only wartime strategy in her mind was kill or be killed; she couldn’t comprehend trying to out-smart an opponent when you could physically overtake them. To Malia, the only way to find Derek was to burn everything down that stood in their way. 

Sam finally got it. The desperation that came from Stiles. This wasn’t about trying to find a friend; it was about finding a piece of himself that had been lost. Stiles would never truly rest until the other half of his soul had been returned to him. Sam saw the same thing when it came to his brother and Castiel. Dean would have done absolutely anything to save Castiel, even if it meant losing himself. He couldn’t imagine Dean or Cas leaving one another without so much as a word of warning, but he did know one might leave if it meant saving the other. If Dean had to abandon Cas in order to keep him alive and safe, he would do it in a heartbeat. There hadn’t been a struggle because Derek hadn’t been taken. And he hadn’t told anyone of his plans not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t in order to keep them safe. Someone was blackmailing Derek Hale. 

“I don’t know where Derek is, but I think I know why he might have gone....”


	6. Chapter 6

After another hour of discussing possible scenarios with Sam and Dean the group split up, with the McCall pack all agreeing on meeting at Liam’s house in the evening so they could regroup and maybe think of something new since having spoken with the Winchesters. Everyone went their separate ways, hoping to have a few hours where everything could be relatively normal. 

Six o’clock rolled around quickly and Liam heard the first knock on his door. It was Scott, Stiles, Lydia and Malia, each carrying a box full of stuff from Derek’s loft. Corey, Hayden and Mason were there not long after, the group arguing over whether or not the werewolves of Beacon Hills had come from Lillith, mother of all supernatural creatures. Theo rolled in last, although Liam wasn’t sure where he had come from. He was living with Scott at the moment, having a semi-permanent sleepover on his couch, but showed up about twenty minutes after Scott had gotten there. He shrugged it off as he locked the door behind him, pointing Theo in the direction of his living room, even though he had been there a dozen times before. 

The group went through Derek’s things and discussed possibilities on who would want to blackmail him for the next five hours, only taking a short break to order pizza. The list was short, but significant and Scott was excited to talk with the Winchesters the next day. For the first time in weeks, he felt like they were actually getting somewhere in the search for Derek. Just like they were the first to get there, the older members of the McCall pack were the first to leave. Mason, Corey, Hayden and Theo hung around for another hour, the five of them deciding to end the night with a movie, although no one was sure why they had chosen ‘An American Werewolf in London.’ With Mason fast asleep on Corey’s shoulder, the two of them left as soon as the movie ended, Corey having to practically carry Mason out of the door, leaving just Theo, Liam and Hayden to awkwardly sit on the couch staring at each other. It only took a few minutes of silence for Hayden to jump up, gather her things and head out the door. Liam was her ex-boyfriend, Theo was her ex-Alpha, she really didn’t need to spend too much time with them together, alone. She said her goodbyes and sprinted down the sidewalk, already on her phone with her older sister to let her know she was finally on her way home. 

“Okay, so, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Theo stood up, yawning and stretching his arms above his head, his shirt slipping up, revealing just a tiny bit of skin above his waist. Liam stared for a bit, almost wondering what it would be like to touch the sensitive skin there, before he shook his head, averting his gaze to everything around him that wasn’t Theo. 

“Uh, yeah, tomorrow. Sounds good.” He stood up a little too quickly, almost falling into Theo as he tripped over his own feet. 

“Walk much, Dumb-bar?” Liam threw a death glare at Theo as the pair walked the rest of the way to the door in silence, both too tired to put much thought into a conversation. 

“Alright, good night, Liam.” Theo locked eyes with him before slowly turning around, wandering down the sidewalk with almost a half-turn in his step, as if he was looking for any reason to turn back. Liam felt bad that he had to walk all the way over to Scott’s house. He should have just offered for Theo to stay at his place. Wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. He watched until Theo disappeared out of view, letting the curtains fall into place over the window. His face felt hot. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, that stupid piece of skin above Theo’s waist coming back into full view. 

“You should just tell him how you feel.” 

A blood curdling scream escaped Liam and he was glad everyone had just left his house so no one could hear him. 

“Who the hell are you?! What are you doing in my house?!” 

“Wait... you can see me?!” The girl looked more shocked than him, her mouth agape as she reached towards Liam, who immediately took a step towards the hallway to his right. He wanted to run but for some reason his body seemed unable. The best he could do was slowly make his way down the hallway towards his kitchen. 

“Why wouldn’t I be able to see you?!” 

“Because I’m dead.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if everyone should know she was dead and that Liam was a complete and total idiot for not realizing. 

“You’re WHAT?” 

Liam was still backing himself down the hallway. Either this girl was crazy or he was. Neither would surprise him. He fumbled with his phone in his pocket, not sure who he was going to text in the first place. He was either crazy and seeing things, imagining a girl he had never met talking to him, or his house was haunted. A haunted house might be easier to explain. It would not be the strangest thing to ever happen in Beacon Hills. He finally fished his phone out, trying to keep eye contact with the girl while also pulling up his contact list. The first one to pop up was Corey; he clicked the ‘CALL’ button and hoped he wouldn’t think it was a butt dial. He immediately heard the sound of his voicemail message and remembered Corey mentioning the fact that his phone was about to die before him and Mason had left. Fuck. Of course. 

“I’ve been yelling at the people in this town for TWO YEARS. It’s about time someone heard me.” The joy on her face was unmistakable. 

“Who... who even are you? And why are you haunting my house?” 

“Ok, first off, I’m not haunting *your* house. I followed you all here to listen to the rest of the conversation after you guys left the diner. In fact, this is only I think the... fourth time I’ve been here?” 

Liam’s face quickly turned to disgust at thinking about a ghost being in his house four times. 

“Secondly, I’m Allison.” Her smile was bright as she reached a hand out, an attempt to introduce herself properly. 

“Hold on, Allison ARGENT?” 

“Excellent. You’ve heard of me.” 

Allison went on to tell Liam about her journey in the spirit world after her death. At first, she was... somewhere else. She wasn’t sure if it was heaven or hell or some kind of purgatory. All she knew was she was with her mom and had completely forgotten about everything going on in Beacon Hills, including her father and Scott. For once, she didn’t have to worry about werewolves or hunting or the supernatural. It was nice. Then, suddenly, she was taken out of this haven and thrown back into Beacon Hills. She tried talking to everyone, screaming until she thought her lungs were going to give out. Scott, Stiles, Lydia, her dad, even trying out walking the halls of Beacon Hills High School, hoping she’d run into someone who they didn’t know was supernatural. No luck. For two years, she was wandering around Beacon Hills, following her old friends and doing what she could to help them through their struggles. Which was nothing. She could do nothing as she watched all of her friends fight and lose. One thing she could do, though, was gather information. 

“I saw the guy that Derek left with. I don’t know who he was but I can tell you everything I know about that night,” without pausing, she careened through topics. It was a lonely two years and she had too much to tell. “I can’t believe you got to meet the Winchesters. I had only dreamed of meeting Sam and Dean when I was alive.” 

“Allison. Hold on. You’re going too fast. What did you mean that I should ‘tell him how I feel’?” 

Allison couldn’t help but laugh. She forgot how young Liam was, how new he was to the supernatural side of Beacon Hills. He had only been a werewolf for a few years, whereas she had been a hunter her entire life. 

“I mean Theo, of course.” Again, with the matter-of-factness. Every time Liam asked a question, he was met with a response that he felt like he should have already known. Of course, there was a ghost in his house. Of course, it was Allison Argent. Of course, he had feelings for Theo. She made him feel stupid about a world she hadn’t been a part of for years. 

“I don’t... don’t have feelings for Theo.” 

“Sure, kid. Keep telling yourself that. I’ve seen it before—the looks you two give each other. The way you search for him first when entering a room. The way his eyes light up when someone brings you up in conversation. Trust me, he feels the same way.” 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Allison rolled her eyes. Boys could be so dense. 

“Fine. You’re right, Liam, as always. Now, why are we still standing here? Take me to Scott.”


	7. Chapter 7

Liam knocked on the door of the McCall house, hoping that Scott would be the one opening the door and not Melissa. Melissa scared him a little bit, if he was being honest with himself. Allison knew it, too. 

“Don’t worry, Melissa is at the hospital. She always works the night shift on the weekend.” 

The door opened to reveal Scott, but Liam’s heart continued racing. How was he supposed to tell Scott what was going on without sounding out of his mind? How would Scott possibly believe him? 

“Liam, hey. Is everything okay?” Scott’s voice was worried as he opened the door fully, stepping out the way so Liam could come into the house. Allison bounded in happily, her eyes aflame as she stared at Scott. For two years she had been wanting to talk with him, if only just to tell him how proud she was at the Alpha he had become. Her day had finally arrived and she almost couldn’t contain herself. 

“Tell him I’m here Liam! Tell him I’m here! Scott! SCOTT!” She was shouting by the end of her sentence and Liam could feel his ears ringing. He winced and Scott looked into the direction he was staring, wondering what he was looking at in the empty space. 

“Liam. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

“Oh, God. I don’t even know how to start. I’m seeing your ex-girlfriend.” 

Scott’s face grew confused and the wheels spinning in his brain were obvious. 

“You’re seeing my... Liam, I’m sorry, what? Who? Is Kira back? Are you dating Kira?” 

“What? No. Allison.” 

“Liam... Allison has been dead for two years. You know this. Are you okay?” 

“Oh my God. I wish there was more than one brain cell between the two of you.” 

“GODDAMMIT. Allison, shut up! I’m trying to tell him, okay? Scott—Allison is here. She’s a ghost. I can see her. I don’t know how. She just showed up today and now she’s yelling at me—oh God, she’s talking about you guys’ first kiss. I really don’t need to know this. Please believe me. Just make it stop.” 

“Allison?!” Scott’s eyes were wild, scanning the room, looking for any sign of her long, dark hair. “Where? Where is she?” 

Liam breathed a sigh of relief. Scott believed him. He pointed to his right, where Allison was jumping up and down, practically yelling at Scott that she was here. 

“Liam, I don’t... I don’t see anything. I don’t see her.” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She’s a ghost. I’m the first one who has been able to see her the whole time she’s been in Beacon Hills. I have no idea why.” 

“Allison, I miss you so much. We all do. I have so much to tell you.” 

Now Liam was the one to feel invisible. Even though Scott couldn’t see or hear Allison, she was the only thing that mattered to him in the moment. 

“Tell him I miss him, too. Tell him I know... everything. I’ve been watching. And listening. Tell him, Liam!” 

Liam rolled his eyes but relayed everything to Scott. This went back and forth for almost an hour and Liam wished he could be just about anywhere else right now—school, the dentist, running laps for Coach, hanging out with Theo, maybe some light torture from an enemy. After telling one another again how much they loved and missed the other, they finally got back on track. 

“The man who took Derek. Have her tell me absolutely everything.”


	8. Chapter 8

Blackmail, of course. Why Stiles had never thought of blackmail was beyond him. It was the only explanation that made any sense, yet it passed over all of their heads during these past two weeks. He was most surprised by Lydia, who always seemed to figure everything out before the rest of them, and himself, who knew Derek better than anyone else in the group. He quietly closed the door behind him as he walked into his house, careful not to disturb his dad. Some may have found this endearing, as he didn’t want to wake Noah Stilinski from his sleep, but, in reality, Stiles had sneaked out of his house—and back into it—so many times that he could almost do it silently. And still get caught. 

“How’s everything going?” 

The Sheriff had spoken softly as to not scare Stiles, but the junior Stilinski still jumped a few feet in the air at the sound of his dad’s voice. 

“Dad! Jesus! Almost gave me a heart attack! No, everything, it’s... fine, you know. It’s the same.” 

“Those Winchester brothers turn out to be any help?” 

“Yeah, I think they will.” There was a pause as the pair stared at each other. The Sheriff had noticed the toll Derek’s disappearance had taken on Stiles; Stiles had noticed his own stress taking a toll on his dad. 

“We’re going to find him, son.” 

Stiles nodded and whispered ‘yeah’ before heading up the stairs to his room, the sting of tears hitting the corners of his eyes as he shut the door and sat down on his bed. The room was covered in different colors of yarn, a rainbow of theories stretching between pictures and news articles and maps with giant red circles all over them. For weeks Stiles had been theorizing about what could have happened to Derek, the theories growing more and more wild as the days stretched on without his return. Sure, he had been without Derek before, but not without an explanation. Not without a goodbye. What was starting to scare Stiles the most was the idea of Derek leaving willingly, intentionally not saying anything so as to make the break of his past as clean as possible. Stiles didn’t think he could handle the thought of Derek just being... gone. His death would be less painful, although Stiles didn’t try to think of that too often, either. Stiles wiped the tears from his eyes and took a sharp breath. With Sam and Dean in town he was starting to feel hope for the first time in what felt like years. They were professionals who had done stuff like this hundreds of times, hunted down supernatural beings who didn’t want to be found. If Derek was out there, and, God willing, alive, Sam and Dean Winchester were going to be the ones to find him. Stiles laid down on his bed and closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep, dreaming of dark hair, green eyes and a permanent scowl.


	9. Chapter 9

Finding out who was trying to blackmail Derek Hale was turning out to be a much harder job than Sam had imagined. There weren’t really a ton of people out there who actually liked the guy. Kate Argent seemed like the most likely suspect, but everyone seemed to have already written her out of the picture. Sam sighed as he stared at his computer screen, watching the mouse blink over and over. He pulled his phone out, knowing there weren’t going to be any messages, but needing the distraction. To his surprise, there was a message waiting. A bold ‘CALL ME’ under the name ‘MOM.’ He sat up straight in his chair. This was the first time Mary reached out to him, not the other way around. His mind at first went to a panic, worried that something was wrong. Mary Winchester, however, was fully capable of taking care of herself, and also had the British Men of Letters by her side. Sam was also disappointed in himself for not thinking of his mom in the first place. She was with the British Men of Letters for crying out loud, who, even though they specialized in creatures living in the UK, had the knowledge of an entire history of hunters and monsters on their side. If they didn’t know specifically who would want to harm the Hale family, they may at least know where he could have been taken or what kind of group could possibly be responsible. Maybe they’d luck out and he’d learn about a rogue vampire clan who liked to hunt werewolves for sport. Maybe they agreed to let Derek be the sacrifice to save the rest of his werewolf brethren in Beacon Hills. It was a stretch, Sam knew that, but he also knew that the Men of Letters were the best shot he had right now. 

Not wanting to disturb Dean, who was sleeping soundly in the bed next to him, Sam grabbed his phone and headed outside. He glanced at his watch. It was almost 11:00 PM meaning it was just about 7:00 AM in London, if he knew his time zones correctly, which, he wasn’t sure he did. Still, even if he was wrong, the message from Mary seemed urgent and she wouldn’t care what time he returned her call. The phone rang three times before Mary’s soothing voice answered. 

“Sam?” 

“Hi Mo—Mary. I just got your message. I’m sorry, I’ve been busy doing research for the past few hours, the time got away from me. Is something wrong?” 

“Have you ever heard of Beacon Hills, California?” 

Sam literally stopped in his tracks, his foot hanging mid-step as he made his way down the sidewalk in front of the Inn. His eyes glanced hurriedly around. He wasn’t sure if he expected a monster to pop up behind him or for his mother to be around the corner, but the chills running up his spine kept him on edge. 

“Not... not really, no. Why? Is something going on? Do you need us to head in that direction?” 

He didn’t like having to lie to Mary, but there was something in his gut that told him to not reveal too much to her too quickly. 

“Werewolf den. I think it would be best if you and Dean made your way to California. Where   
are you now? I can send you the coordinates.” 

“Uh, Santa Fe,” he mumbled, his mind quickly coming up with a believable back story. “Dean and I had heard a rumor of a shapeshifter so we headed out this way. Turns out the guy had already left town. We were headed back to Kansas in the morning but we’re not too far from California. We can be on our way in the AM.” 

“Sounds great, Sam. I will see you there. Arthur is having Mick and I fly out here in a few hours.” 

“See you soon, Mo—I mean, Mary.” 

“See you soon, Sam.” 

Sam hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. He hoped the British Men of Letters had found out about Derek and were on their way to help, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Even though he and Dean worked on the moral grounds of good versus evil, the Brits didn’t quite see it the same way. To them, a monster was a monster was a monster. Sam wasn’t going to let anything happen to the kids here. They hadn’t hurt anyone; in fact, they had saved almost everyone in town by keeping the things that go bump in the night at bay. Before he could find out, though, Sam had to make a few phone calls. He was going to let the Brits stumble into town without warning Scott first, even if it was his own mother making the trip. First thing first, he had to wake up Dean. If they were going to do anything, they had to get their stories straight on why they were in Beacon Hills in the first place.


	10. Chapter 10

“You’re right, Arthur, he lied. Said he was in Santa Fe and acted like he hadn’t even heard of Beacon Hills.” Mary Winchester’s brow had been furrowed for the last two days, as the Men of Letters filled her in on the history of Beacon Hills and then hit her with the curveball of her two sons being involved. This town, and the families that ran it, were bad news. And why Sam and Dean would be involved was beyond her. Why they would lie about it seemed more reasonable. 

Mary knew she had been selfish by asking for space, by asking to go to London with Mick and join the British Men of Letters until she could get back on her feet. She desperately wanted to know her sons, wanted to catch up on the lives they lived while she was gone, but not without gaining her footing first. She knew nothing about this world, both human and supernatural. So much had changed in the thirty years she had been dead and there was so much she needed to learn before she would even be able to function, let alone be with her sons in the hunter environment that they craved. 

She still hated John for doing that. For turning their boys into the one thing she vowed they would never be. But the past was in the past. There was nothing she could do to change the fact now, only accept that it happened and adapt. She was still proud of Sam and Dean. They were good at their job, damn good, and kept the world safe from evil when others would have walked away a long time ago, went for the easier route, the normal route. There were a few times that they did, but they always found their way back to each other. She did have to thank John for that. He may have turned them into hunters and he may have treated them like soldiers instead of sons, but they learned to survive without him and learned to only ever trust in each other. 

Mary knew that, if her sons were lying to her to protect someone, or something, in Beacon Hills, that they were doing the right thing. As much evidence as the Men of Letters had given Mary over the past few days: the murder of Laura Hale, the rapid and self-destructive growth rate of werewolves at the hands of Peter and Derek Hale, the Alpha pack, the Oni and Nogitsune, the Dread Doctors and the death of Tara Raeken, the sacrificial offerings of children—despite all of that, she knew there was something in that town worth saving. She wasn’t going to figure out what it was, though, until they had set foot in California. 

The flight was long, nearly twelve hours, and it felt strange to have once been in the cold, dreary London morning to now basking in the warm glow of the California sun. Mary had only been to California once, a very long time ago, on a rare vacation with her parents. Usually, their vacations consisted of the burning of wendigos and the beheading of vampires, but Samuel Campbell had decided to spoil his girls one year, taking them to see the glitz and glamor of Hollywood. The vacation hadn’t lasted long—only about a day and a half before Samuel had gotten an urgent call regarding a shapeshifter in Las Vegas—but Mary would always remember the feel of the sun and the rare, but beautiful, laugh of her mother. Deana Campbell didn’t laugh much; she never had any real reason to. The Campbells always had been and always would be hunters, and Deana had been dragged into it from the very moment she met Samuel. She tried her hardest to protect her only child from it, but failed, just as Mary would do only about a decade later. 

Beacon Hills was a short drive from the San Diego Airport, which Mary was thankful for after spending so much time on a crowded plane. She never minded flying; it was being confined into a tube with dozens of strangers that always made her on-edge. Mick was hardly a stranger, but the feeling of confinement was still there. 

They pulled into the small parking lot behind Beacon Hills Inn just a little after 8:00 PM, local time. Sam and Dean had already made it to town, securing rooms at the Inn for all of them. The Beacon Hills Inn never saw this much action in the off-season and was delighted to fill three rooms for the time being. Mick had talked about leaving the business end of the trip until the morning, letting the two of them get the rest they so craved, but Mary was adamant about speaking to the boys that night. They had agreed to meet in Sam and Dean’s room, where they could give room keys to Mary and Mick as they filled them in on the situation growing in Beacon Hills. 

The door to room 119 creaked as it opened, revealing the frame of Dean Winchester, who seemed very out of place with the floral décor. 

“Mom,” he breathed as he opened the door further, allowing the space for Mary and Mick to come in. Sam was already inside, making room on the small bedside table for them to set their things onto. Awkward greetings were given. Handshakes were given that should have been hugs. Hugs were given that should have been handshakes. There lingered a feeling in the air that something was out of place. Mary knew it was her. She cleared her throat as she sat on the edge of one of the beds, her hands folding into her lap. 

“It’s good to see you two. You look well. I hope you don’t mind, I’d really like to just get in   
to it. I know you two, so I know you’ve done your research. This town has been overrun by   
supernatural creatures for the past several decades. Werewolves, wendigos, some Japanese   
monsters that I had never even heard of, all of them have seemed to found a home in Beacon   
Hills. That itself was concerning. Add onto it the events that have taken place in just the past   
two years and the British Men of Letters felt as they needed to inject themselves into the   
situation. A family of hunters, the Argents, had started to take care of things but after the   
death of a Victora Argent, followed soon after by the death of her daughter, Allison, the   
Argents had left town, leaving Beacon Hills defenseless again.” 

Sam knew that Beacon Hills hadn’t been completely defenseless. Without Scott McCall and his pack, a lot more blood would have been spilled in the town. He kept his mouth closed. 

“Things seemed quiet and Beacon Hills had mostly fallen off of our radar. I called you two here   
and Mick and myself have flown all of this way because a new threat is coming. He calls himself   
The Butcher.” 

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes. The Butcher. Naturally. No one could just refer to themselves by their God-given names, they had to come up with some kind of edgy moniker. 

“And what, exactly, is this... Butcher... known for?” 

“What do you think, Dean? From what we’ve read, The Butcher has appeared in several cities   
across the United States for the past thirty years, each time killing at least a half-dozen people. Local newspapers speak of a serial killer, one who dismembers his victims and then pieces them back together.” 

“I’m going to stop you right there. Why are we getting involved? Seems like a case for the PD or FBI or someone who deals with human justice? Humans are scary, man.” 

“Yes, but humans don’t tend to keep the hearts of their victims.” 

A breath escaped Sam; one he didn’t realize he had been holding. The entire time his mother was speaking, he was hoping to not hear anything that hinted at werewolves. Helping Scott and his pack was already going to be hard enough; not being able to trust them was going to make it even worse.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: slightly graphic depictions of violence

“The Butcher?! You’re kidding, right?” 

Theo always had the knack to say what they were all thinking. Sitting around the dining room table of the McCall house, it would almost look like this group of teenagers were having a study session, as long as no one listened in to the conversation that was happening. Scott and Stiles had spent the morning filling them in on everything they had learned from the Winchesters regarding the Butcher and what this could mean in their search for Derek. The Winchesters seemed to think the Butcher didn’t take any prisoners; Scott and Stiles agreed but were holding onto the hope that this was the answer to their question. ‘Holding on hope’ maybe wasn’t the correct phrasing. They definitely didn’t hope that Derek had been taken by a murderous werewolf who took apart his victims, but it was the first lead they had since Peter had gotten ahold of Kate Argent. Scott had brought up the man who Allison had saw take Derek that night; the Winchesters were even more convinced that the Butcher must have been behind the kidnapping. 

Newpaper clippings ranging from Raleigh, North Carolina, to Tacoma, Washington, were spread out across the dining room table, all stories with headlines reading ‘MURDER,’ ‘TRAGEDY,’ ‘MUTILATION.’ There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what The Butcher did. The victims varied in age, gender and ethnicity. There was no obvious pattern, either with location or timing. There was no obvious reason as to why he would be choosing Beacon Hills. The only reason they knew he was coming was because of an ominous message to the British Men of Letters. 

_HOPE YOU’LL BE JOINING ME IN BEACON HILLS. BEST- BUTCHER_

The message is what bothered Lydia the most. 

“Why would he send a warning?” she mumbled, skimming through a biography on Jack the Ripper, hoping that learning more on the murderous stylings of one serial killer would help her with another. Theo seemed to enjoy the tone of the letter the most. 

“Just a quick, happy note, asking his friends to join him for some afternoon tea and murder.” 

Allison wished more than ever that she could hug her friends one more time. The looks on all of their faces as they contemplated what this meant for Derek—what it meant for all of them—was almost too much for her. She was also never more thankful that they had each other, as she saw each one of them leaning on one another, both figuratively and literally. 

“We’re not going to figure this out today, guys,” Scott said, his head in his hands as Malia rubbed his back gently. “Let’s split this all up, see if pouring over it in smaller chunks will help. Mason and Corey- take the case files and articles from Raleigh. Hayden—you and Malia can have Shreveport. Liam and Theo, take the files on Topeka and Lincoln. The one from Topeka doesn’t have a lot, it should be a quick read. I’ll take the files from Tacoma, and that leaves Reno, Fresno and Helena for Stiles and Lydia. We’ll meet back here Tuesday after school.” 

“We still have to go to school? We’re hunting a serial killer werewolf. I think that’s grounds for maybe taking a few days off.” Mason wasn’t the one that Scott figured would be protesting against him, but the stress of the last few days was getting to everyone, even the mildest mannered of the group. 

“You’re going to school. Until we get a solid lead, it’s best to act like everything is normal.” 

Those who were sitting around the table stood up, stretching after such a long time being down. Mason wrapped his arm around Corey, the two of them the first to leave the McCall house. Stiles and Lydia were still deep in conversation at the table, hunched over the police file from Reno. Malia kissed Scott on the cheek and went to talk to Hayden. They never hung out much outside of werewolf business. I think Scott knew each of them could use another friend, especially another werewolf friend. 

“So, ready to go long and hard all night?” 

“.... what?” 

Liam’s face was clouded in confusion, staring at Theo like he had just spoken to him in a foreign language. He knew his face was turning beet red as he felt it getting warm. For once he wished he paid more attention. 

“The research. Get your head out of the gutter, Dumb-bar. I don’t have a place so, I guess we’re headed to yours. Shall we?” He grabbed the files assigned to the two of them and headed towards the door, Liam still standing in the dining room in a state of confusion. 

“Stop standing there, Liam,” Allison whispered, only a few inches away from his face. 

“Jesus Christ! Will you stop doing that?!” he yelled, as everyone looked at him with confusion at first, then understanding as they remembered Allison. He wished he could send her along with Scott or Lydia, wished he wasn’t burdened with being the only one who could see or hear her. As though she could read his mind, she gave him a push towards the door. 

“Don’t worry, Liam. I’m not going to follow you back home. Have fun.” She winked and gave him another nudge, waving him on as he walked out the door after Theo. 

**Meanwhile, somewhere in Alaska...**

The bones in Derek Hale’s arm shattered as a sledgehammer dropped on top of it. The pain was overwhelming but he kept his outburst to a slight grimace. This guy got off on putting others in pain. He was enjoying this. It would only be a few minutes before Derek’s arm would start to heal itself, and while they were waiting, his captor decided to work on another part of his body. A machete as long as his arm was pulled off the table, the blade glittering in the moonlight coming from the open window. No matter how much noise came out of this room, no one was going to hear it. The cabin Derek was being held in was deep in the woods. Even if he knew what forest he was in, he was sure it would be days until anyone would find him, if they even could. He had wandered the redwood forests in Northern California, spent days in the rainforests of the Amazon, he knew nature was the ultimate hiding spot. Besides, he had chosen this. Chosen this torture because it meant one thing: the town of Beacon Hills would be safe. And nothing else mattered except keeping him safe. The machete sliced across Derek’s chest, his blood pooling into his lap. As the red streams flowed quickly down his chest, he could think of only one thing as he started to lose consciousness: how much he wished he had a baseball bat right in this moment.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: minor character death

It was Monday morning in Beacon Hills. The hustle and bustle of everyday life was back after the still calm of the weekend. Mary Winchester woke with the sun, its light pouring into the window and almost blinding her. She blinked a few times, her eyes having a hard time focusing between the sunlight and the headache that was building up in her skull. Flashes of a dingy bar, shots of whiskey lined up and a man with the bluest eyes she had ever seen flew across her eyes as she slowly remembered the night before. She knew better than to drink whiskey, it gave her the worst hangover every time. Mick had convinced her that going out to the local bars that night was a good idea. They had only been in Beacon Hills for two days but Mick insisted that they deserved a break. Even though their travel to California was for business, Mick said the distance between them, Arthur Ketch and the Men of Letters in London meant they should at least treat one day in the California heat as a vacation. After a lot of groveling, Mary agreed, although she was definitely going to be giving Mick a piece of her mind once she got back to the Inn. 

Blinking a few more times she attempted to take in her surroundings. The studio apartment was mostly bare, with floor to ceiling windows on one wall, dark grey brick on the others. The bed was massive, taking up almost all of the designated bedroom area, and the silk sheets were soft against her skin. This was definitely a man who only ever invited people into his apartment that he intended to bring into that bed. Paul? Was that his name? Her brain was still fuzzy as she slowly rolled over, finally taking a look at the warm body lying next to her. His breathing was slow and steady, his blue eyes still closed. She knew it had to have been the blue-eyed man she remembered. (Phil? Was it Phil?) She remembered he had a great smile and his laugh was loud. She always liked a man who could crack a joke just as easily as he could breathe. A good sense of humor was so important; it was one of her favorite things about John. She reached out to stroke his face, his skin rough under her fingers. She felt him move under her touch and immediately jerked her hand back. Not only would she feel guilty waking him up, she wasn’t quite ready to confront the events of the night before. 

Flashes of skin and heat came back to her and she blushed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually enjoyed her time in bed like that. Well, considering she had only been with one man, Ketch, since she had been back, there wasn’t really anything to compare it to. Patrick... yes, Patrick, sighed deeply and reached towards Mary, his hands sliding over the silk sheets with ease. She let his hand rest on hers, his fingertips still hot after being tucked under his chest. She shifted again, letting his hand fall, as she attempted to slide out of bed without waking him. 

The air was cold on her bare chest and she desperately wanted to curl back into bed next to Preston—yes, she was sure of his name this time—but she knew she had to leave and get back to Mick before he started to wonder where she was. She tried to remember what had happened to him at the end of the night; she vaguely remembered him talking to a strikingly beautiful blonde but couldn’t remember if he had walked out the door with her or if he had been tragically alone. As much as Mary hadn’t wanted to go out that Sunday night, she knew that Mick needed some fun; he had given his entire life to the Men of Letters and rarely thought about anything else than the mission at hand. She found her pants, which she quickly slipped on, the black material fitting oddly without her underwear, but she had no idea where those were. She glanced around the rest of the room, a mess of clothes haphazardly thrown about, looking for the red shirt she had worn the night before. Deciding it didn’t matter, she grabbed the first shirt she saw: a plain white t-shirt that smelled like smoke and mint, slipping it over her head. She checked her pockets: keys, wallet, everything important was there. Creeping towards the doorway, she took one last look at the bed before slipping out. Sorry to cut and run, Peter. 

Peter. His name was Peter. 

She made her way closer towards the front door, only a few feet separating herself from a quick and silent exit. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch, the only article of clothing that had been gently place in a spot of safekeeping. 

The last thing Mary saw was the solid dark wood of the front door before it was blown to pieces before her.


	13. Chapter 13

The pounding on the door was incessant. One hour of sleep. That’s all Dean was asking for. He rolled out of bed the same time as Sam, both of them rubbing sleep from their eyes as they grabbed the closest weapon they could find and headed towards the door. Dean stood to the side and nodded once at Sam, who brought his eye up to the peephole and quickly looked away, lowering his weapon. 

“It’s Mick.” 

They opened the door to find Mick Davies, member of the British Men of Letters, but otherwise a perfectly nice guy. His face was grim and the brothers noticed he swallowed hard before he was able to speak. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, but something has happened. You need to come with me.” 

Dean was only four years old the first time he had to look at his mother’s dead body. He could still remember her soft blonde hair, which was the only part that even remotely resembled his mother. She had been burned alive and her funeral was an obvious closed-casket situation, but John Winchester wanted to see his wife one more time before they placed her into the ground. Dean stole a glance, peaking around John’s body as he gripped his hand tightly. He remembered her face, which was calm and serene, but black from soot and flame. He remembered it didn’t look anything like his mom and letting out a small cry, ignored by John. 

This time was no different. Her hair was still a bright white-blonde that framed her face like a halo against the dark, burned skin. 

“What happened?” Dean asked, his eyes never leaving the body of Mary. 

Mick said nothing, only lifted the sheet. A hole lay in the center of Mary’s chest, her heart ripped clean out of her body. A ring of blood soaked into the white shirt she was wearing, leaving a stain that would forever be etched into Dean’s memory. 

“We received reports of an explosion at an apartment downtown and the body of a woman found, internal organs missing. We knew it had to have been the Butcher but had no idea it was Mary. Sam... Dean... I'm so sorry.” 

“Who did the apartment belong to?” 

Mick cleared his throat, blinking away the tears that had started to form in the corners of his eyes. He had lost colleagues before, but had never had a colleague die twice. Never did he have to report to his colleague’s children that they were, once again, without a mother. 

“Uh,” he fumbled through a stack of papers that sat on the counter above Mary’s body. “The apartment belonged to a Peter Hale. He wasn’t at the residence when the authorities arrived.” 

Sam and Dean shared a glance at the mention of the name Hale and Dean immediately left the room, without a word to Mick or Sam, just an abrupt slam of the heavy door behind him. 

He walked to the end of the hall, his heart pounding and his eyes beginning to cloud over as the anger and grief overtook him. He punched the cement wall in front of him, tears immediately welling in his eyes. He knew he had broken at least one knuckle. Whoever this Butcher son of a bitch was, Dean was going to find him and Dean was going to end him. He wouldn’t be lucky enough to have the same quick ending like Mary; Dean was going to make him suffer. He felt a rush of air behind him, the sound of wings slight and likely wouldn’t be heard unless one was listening for them. 

“Dean.” He closed his eyes and took a breath, as he turned around to face Castiel. 

“Cas. What are you doing here?” 

“It’s all over angel airways. About Mary. Dean, I’m so sorry.” The pain in Cas’s eyes was evident. The Winchesters had been through too much in their lives. Getting Mary back from the dead had been a blessing, a gift from the Darkness after uniting her with her brother, God; the Winchesters couldn’t have had enough time with her before she was cruelly taken away again. Cas took a step towards Dean, afraid the Winchester would lash out, take his anger out on him instead of the one he was truly mad at. But Dean hadn’t moved an inch; he stood still as his eyes moved out of focus, cradling his injured hand in the other. Cas took the broken hand in his, covering it with his other as he closed his eyes. Within a few seconds the bones were healed. 

“Thanks.” Dean uttered the word with no emotion. 

“What can I do to help?” 

As much as Dean appreciated the gesture, help from Cas almost always ended in disaster. 

“Nothing, Cas. I don’t want your help. I’m going to find this Butcher son of a bitch and I’m going to kill him. Plain and simple.” 

“Goddammit Dean, don’t send me away like that. You’re hurting, I can help.” 

“I’m fine, Cas.” 

The same conversation had been had between the two a thousand times. Dean got hurt, Cas tried to help, Dean shut Cas out and the cycle continued. This time, though, Castiel wasn’t going to let Dean just walk away. 

“No, Dean, you’re not. Your mother is dead. Ok? She’s dead. And she’s not coming back, not again. It hurts, I know. Having to lose a mother once is hard, losing her twice is impossible. Just tell me what to do Dean, tell me what I can do to help.” 

“What would you know about losing a mother?!” 

Dean’s words echoed down the hallway, a hollow cry of pain and frustration. If he had been on another floor in the hospital, a rush of nurses would have been at his side, either to help him or stop him from disturbing their patients. In the morgue, there wasn’t anyone to complain. Mick’s head popped out of the morgue, but he quickly went back in at the sight of Cas. He didn’t really want to deal with an angry Dean Winchester; an angry Winchester brother arguing with an angel was about the last thing on Mick’s list of fun things to do. Dean closed the gap between him and Castiel, his eyes bright with fury as he stood only a few inches from the angel’s face. 

“You know nothing about how I feel. I want you to leave.” 

Cas huffed, pushing Dean out of the way as he walked into the morgue to talk with the more sensible Winchester brother. Dean paced in the hallway of the morgue as he considered all of his options. They had no idea yet who the Butcher was. He knew the British Men of Letters and the McCall pack were working on it, but it wasn’t going to be quick enough for his liking. The McCall Pack, of course. He hadn’t seen them since Saturday but remembered a conversation had between Sam and Scott over the phone the day before. One of the wolves was seeing the ghost of that Argent girl, and she had information on the Butcher. Dean heard the morgue door open but was already heading towards the elevators without even so much as a glance behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: werewolf on Winchester violence

“The wolf who can see ghosts. Where is he? WHERE IS HE?” Dean Winchester charged into the McCall house without so much as a knock. Scott was sitting at the dining room table with Lydia, Stiles, Malia, Theo and Liam, the six of them discussing their case files a day early. No one had told them about Mary yet; the Sheriff hadn’t had a chance to speak with his son that day, hadn’t had a chance to fill them in on what had happened at Peter Hale’s loft. 

“Whoa, whoa, Dean, calm down. What’s going on?” 

Scott was the first to jump from his seat, rushing towards the Winchester brother with arms out in both concern for Dean but also protection of his pack. 

“My mother is dead and I NEED THE WOLF WHO CAN SEE GHOSTS. Which one of you is it?” 

A growl escaped Malia as she took a step forward, guarding Liam from Dean’s gaze. No one came after a member of her pack without her having something to say about it. 

“You.” He pointed at Liam and rushed forward, Scott still attempting to calm down Dean. 

“Your mom? Dean, tell us what happened. Dean!” 

But Dean wasn’t listening. His blood rushed in his ears and all he could hear was the whooshing as his heart pumped, threatening to beat straight out of his chest. Malia snapped at him and he smacked her, sending her flying into the wall to her right. He grabbed Liam by the shirt collar. 

“Take me to her.” 

Before anyone else could react, Theo had jumped across the table, his hand wrapping around Dean’s throat in an instant, the breath catching in Dean’s esophagus as Theo squeezed. 

“Let him go or I rip your throat out.” 

His eyes were yellow and wild with fury. His fangs were barred as he gripped tighter onto Dean’s throat, the blood starting to pool where claws met flesh. 

“THEO! STAND DOWN!” 

Theo roared at Scott, the walls of the house shaking as the sound waves rushed through them. Scott roared right back, his eyes turning red as he shifted into Alpha wolf, but the fury in Theo was too much. He gripped Dean’s throat harder. As his face was starting to turn purple, Dean let go of Liam’s shirt, pushing him back so that his knees hit the dining room chair and he fell over. Theo let go of Dean, throwing him to the ground as he gasped for air. 

“Get him out of here!” Lydia and Stiles rushed over to Liam, pulling him off the ground and guiding him into the kitchen, Theo quickly following suit as he gave one last growl at Dean. 

“LEAVE, THEO.” 

Dean was starting to get to his feet, his face returning to his normal color but his eyes still full of fire. Scott shifted back to human, taking a step towards Dean while standing between him and the kitchen where the rest of his back had just disappeared to. 

“Dean you need to calm down. We’re on your side, remember? What happened to Mary? What’s going on?” 

Still breathing heavily, Dean explained the explosion at the apartment, explained how his mother had been found with her heart ripped out of her chest. 

“Fuck,” Scott whispered, reaching out to touch Dean’s shoulder. The Winchester brother growled and Scott immediately dropped his hand, almost taking a step back but deciding he needed to keep up the illusion of dominance. He knew Dean wouldn't hesitate to go after Liam if he was given the chance. Scott realized, though, that Liam was probably their best chance at figuring out who the Butcher was. If he could speak with Mary Winchester, she might be able to identify her killer. 

“Dean, I want you to listen to me. I’m going to bring Liam back in here--” 

“THE FUCK YOU ARE!” 

“SHUT UP, THEO! I’m going to bring Liam back in here. See if he can reach Mary at all. I think you’re right: she might be able to tell us who the Butcher is if she recognized her killer. But Liam has to be alive for that to happen? Ok?” 

Dean nodded without a word and Scott motioned to the chair next to him as he walked towards the kitchen. He glanced back at Dean once, hesitant to bring his Beta back in front of him, but realizing it was the best plan they had at the moment. 

His five friends were huddled in the kitchen, Lydia cradling Liam as Theo and Malia stood in front of both of them, their eyes still fierce and their claws still bared. Stiles stood next to the door, wanting to catch every word that Scott was saying to Dean but without the supernatural hearing to listen to the conversation from across the room like the others. 

“Liam. I know you heard everything. Do you think you could try and reach Mary?” 

“It doesn’t... it doesn’t really work like that.” He worked his way out of Lydia’s arms, taking a step closer to Scott. 

“But I could.” 

Allison appeared out of nowhere, although that wasn’t really any different from every other time that she had shown up to Liam. 

“You-- you can talk to her?” 

“Who? Who are you talking to, Liam? Is it Mary?” 

“No. It’s Allison. She said she thinks she may be able to reach Mary.” 

Malia and Theo finally started to back down, realizing that Liam might actually be able to help and he wasn’t going to be the victim of the wrath of Dean Winchester. 

“I’ve only been able to talk to a few other spirits while I’ve been here.  
I don’t know if it work, but I could try.” 

The seven of them made their way out of the kitchen, joining Dean in the dining room. Theo was still glaring at Dean, making sure to step in-between him and Liam as they walked to the other side of the table to sit down. Scott reached a hand out, placing a firm grip on Theo’s arm, not saying a word but conveying that he needed to stand down. 

“So, do we... do we need like, a candle or something?” Malia couldn’t hide the confusion in her face. None of them knew how this was going to work, or if it even would work. 

“It isn’t a séance, Malia,” Stiles answered quickly, the sarcasm thick in his voice. 

“Isn’t it though?” She wasn’t technically wrong. 

“Okay, okay, Allison, please. Can we just get this going?” 

Everyone looked at Liam who panicked and looked behind him before realizing they were waiting for him to talk to Allison. 

“Oh, me, right. So, uh, Allison, what do we need to do?” 

“Shut up.” Her eyes were closed and she was gripping the table with both hands, the first time Liam had seen her grab something solid. “I think I have something.” 

“Oh! Ok. Well, that was fast.” Allison shushed him again, her eyes going out of focus. 

Mary Winchester appeared to her then, only a glimmer but still something. 

“Are you... are you Mary Winchester?” 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Allison Argent. I don’t think we have much time. Mary, tell me everything you can about who killed you.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Someone French? That’s all you got?” 

Sam and Castiel made it to the McCall house only a few minutes shy of Allison speaking with Mary. Sam was disappointed; he knew messages were getting skewed as they had to pass through Liam and Allison in order to get to Mary, but he was hoping he could have gotten at least a short good-bye to his mother. 

“Tall, blonde, French. That’s all she could get before she was knocked out. You have to admit it’s better than nothing,” Scott was overly optimistic. They knew it wasn’t a lot to go on. 

“No, it’s literally nothing.” 

“Well, we know it’s not someone short, brunette and... Spanish?” The group groaned. 

“Wait. I hate to say it, but he’s right,” Lydia’s eyes were wide and Scott threw a look of betrayal her way. “Remember what Allison said about the man who kidnapped Derek? He was tall but built and had dark hair. The man who killed Mary was tall, slight and blonde. It’s a different person.” 

“They would still be working together.” 

“Does the Butcher seem like someone who would have a partner?” 

“So, we now have no idea who took Derek. Is that what you’re saying?” 

The group grew silent. Sam was right. If the man who killed Mary was the Butcher—and her missing heart said that he was—then who had taken Derek? 

“I think it’s time we call in some help. There’s something you guys didn’t know about my mother.” 

He went on to explain how Mary was involved with the British Men of Letters. That spiraled into a long explanation of who the Men of Letters were and what kind of work they did—a concept that confused or disgusted everyone sitting at the McCall table. Arthur Ketch, the head of the London office, was going to be in town by morning, coming to investigate the death of Mary. It wouldn’t be a stretch to expand that investigation into finding Derek. 

“Why didn’t we just ask them sooner? I mean, if there’s an entire army of British hunters out there just waiting to help us, why wait until now?” Stiles asked the question that everyone was thinking: why had they been doing the work by themselves when there were trained men at their disposal? Sam told the story of Lady Bevel and the Brits betrayal; the Winchesters hadn’t been on the best terms with the Men of Letters when their mother requested to join them. The entire room exploded; the British were the best chance they had at finding Derek, but would they be willing to help the Winchesters? 

“I don’t understand,” Castiel murmured to Dean, “why does the were-coyote hate you so much?” 

“Dammit, Cas, will you focus?” There was a brief pause. “Which one?” 

The entire room was chaos. Stiles was arguing with Lydia, yelling something about how anyone with an accent couldn’t be trusted as she rolled her eyes so hard Scott was sure they were going to come right out of her head. While listening to Stiles and Lydia’s argument, Scott had his arm across Theo’s chest. The latter was yelling at Sam from across the table, going on about how his “psycho brother” had almost killed Liam. Malia’s eyes were bright blue as she yelled at Liam, who had suggested using one of the Winchester brothers as bait for the Butcher. Scott wasn’t sure why Malia was against the idea; at this point, the Winchesters were more of a hinderance than a help. Now was one of the moments when he wished Stiles hadn’t reached out to Sam. 

The front door slammed open and the room fell silent immediately. Anyone who could turn did so, claws and fangs at the ready to take on whoever—or whatever—was going to walk into the dining room. 

“Which one of you is going to tell me who blew up my apartment?” Peter Hale was dressed in all black as he slowly walked into the dining room. “That table I had was Italian and a nightmare to import. I’m never going to get another one of those again.” 

Dean screamed as he ran towards Peter, Scott and Sam jumping immediately to try and hold him back. 

“YOU SON OF A BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU! MY MOTHER WAS IN THERE!” 

“And I didn’t kill her!” Peter yelled back, not having moved an inch, clearly not intimidated by Dean. “Why would I blow up my own apartment just to kill your mother?” Still fuming, Dean calmed down. Sam let go of him first, Scott not as trusting that the Winchester brother wouldn’t take off towards Peter. He didn’t necessarily care about Peter Hale, but the last thing the group needed was another death. Besides, his mother had just gotten the carpets cleaned. 

“Now, what are going to do about this?”


	16. Chapter 16

The conversation with Arthur Ketch lasted almost an hour. Scott and Sam had forced everyone to leave the dining room as they spoke with him, not wanting the interruptions that were sure to happen if anyone had been allowed to stay. Ketch was disappointed that they hadn’t reached out for help sooner—he was hoping they could put the past behind them and work together. It was unfortunate that the phone call had to happen after the tragic death of Mary Winchester, but Ketch was happy Sam felt secure enough to reach out for help. 

“Mary said her killer was blonde? And French? That’s interesting....” Ketch already seemed to have an idea as to who the Butcher could be, talking about a rougarou from New Orleans who had escaped the Brits’ capture several years ago in Amsterdam. Scott had no idea what a rourgarou was, but Sam nodded as Ketch brought up the monster so he knew better than to ask stupid questions-- usually. Beacon Hills was a haven for the supernatural, this probably wouldn’t be the first time that a monster Scott had never heard of decided to show up. If you had asked him a few years ago to define a kitsune, a Japanese fox spirit would not have been even in the top ten of his possible explanations. 

Ketch then explained the plan moving forward—the British would gather a task force together that afternoon, flying overnight so they could be in Beacon Hills by morning. They would investigate the death of Mary first, since the evidence was still there and fresh, but move on to Derek Hale quickly. He knew the importance of time—Derek had already been gone for almost a month and time was of the essence in getting him back alive. 

“Scott? I don’t want you to worry. This is what we do. We’re going to find Derek.” 

Scott couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The Winchester brothers had said the same thing, yet here they were, asking for help from yet another group of hunters. It had taken months of trust to get Chris Argent on their side, and that was with the help of Allison. Ketch mentioned security methods and Scott perked back up, taking note of everything Ketch was saying. 

“I’m going to text you a picture of a demon sigil. You must copy the design exactly and in blood. Put it on the outside of all of your houses. It will keep you safe from the supernatural.” 

“Uh... we’re mostly werewolves.” 

“Don’t worry. This particular signal doesn’t affect creatures of the moon. Have Sam and Dean show you and try it later tonight. I also want a salt circle across every door. Mountain ash is helpful against werewolves but that might not be the only thing we’re going up against.” 

Scott nodded and made a mental note about salt, planning on buying out the grocery store stock once he had the chance. If salt really worked against supernatural creatures, he was prepared to create an entire salt circle around Beacon Hills. He rubbed his eyes. It was only dinner time but he was ready to go to bed now. It had been an exhausting day. The buzz of his phone forced him awake as he received the demon sigil from Ketch. 

“I suppose we should give this a try. Ready, Sam?” 

Sam nodded and hung up the phone, thanking Ketch for all of his help and for the quick response in investigating Mary’s death. Above all else, he knew Ketch and Mick cared deeply for Mary and her tragic death would ensure their invested help in the Beacon Hills situation. He reached for Scott’s phone. He vaguely recognized the demon signal but couldn’t quite place it. Maybe he had seen it when he was with Garth. 

“Ok, well, first things first, we need blood. Any volunteers?” 

Scott was the first to volunteer but Sam and Dean both insisted it had to be human blood. Stiles sighed and put his hand out, turned the other way as he grimaced. He had never liked blood. Sam copied the demon sigil from Scott’s phone, checking between the picture and the wall of Scott’s living room obsessively to make sure it was exactly right. 

“I think that should be good. Anyone feel any different?” 

Everyone shook their heads, Liam patting his chest firmly to ensure he was still in one piece and that the sigil hadn’t made his body start to fall apart. 

“All right, that’s a good sign. Who is next?” 

The McCall pack all agreed to stay at Scott’s house that night. It was easier to place security measures in only one place, and none of them really wanted to separate from each other, although not one of them said it out loud. Pizza was ordered for the second night in a row and Scott spent a solid hour going through his house trying to find every blanket he could. Sam, Dean and Castiel left around 8:00, prepared to complete the same security measures on the Beacon Hills Inn. Stiles and Lydia fell asleep in Melissa’s bed, the McCall matriarch agreeing to stay with Sheriff Stilinski, whose home was also covered in sigils and salt. Malia had made a make-shift coyote den on the floor of the living room, half of the blankets in the house piled into the corner. Theo laid on the couch with Liam on the floor beneath him, the older boy winning in the fist fight over who was going to get to sleep on the couch. Liam pulled a scratchy, light pink blanket up to his chin, letting out a deep sigh as he thought about the long night ahead and the British Men of Letters showing up in the morning. 

“What’s wrong, Dumb-bar? Forgot your teddy bear at home?” 

“I don’t have a tedd—no. Just worried about tomorrow, I guess.” 

“Yeah. I know what you mean. But what’s the worst that could happen?” 

Liam immediately shot a death glare at Theo, practically daring him to answer his own question. 

“Yupp.... You're right. I’ll stop talking now.” 

The room went silent for several minutes and Liam thought Theo had maybe went to sleep. He heard the clicking of a zipper going up and down and looked over to see Theo running the zipper on his sweatshirt up and down, increasing speed with each pass. Liam sighed and flipped over, now facing Theo, who looked over and grinned. Liam managed to put on a weak smile but firmly squeezed his eyes closed in an attempt to trick his body into sleep. 

“Goodnight, Dumb-bar.” Theo rolled over, his face pressed into the back of the sofa, his leg propped up so that his foot sat on the top of it. Liam saw no way in which that position could be comfortable. 

“Night, Raeken.” The room fell silent again and, this time, Theo did fall asleep, his breath becoming slow and steady as he kicked his leg off the back of the couch and curled into a ball. Liam took another deep breath but before long his eyes flew open and stared at the ceiling above him. It was going to be a long, lonely night of being the only insomniac in the house.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: gun violence and death

Liam woke up with a hand placed on shoulder. Theo had shifted at some point in the night, his arm hanging off of the couch and gripping on to Liam. His face was pressed into the sofa cushions, mouth wide open as he snored. Liam had only just fallen asleep about an hour before Lydia came into the living room to wake them. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, his lids feeling heavy and his head like it was under water. One of these days he could get to sleep. He reached over and shook Theo, who immediately swatted at Liam, rolling over so his face was pressed into the back of the sofa. 

“Five more minutes.” 

“Ok, but you’re going to have to answer to Lydia when she sees you aren’t awake.” 

Theo groaned and rolled back towards Liam; his eyes open but still full of sleep. He managed a small grin as he blinked his way awake, taking a deep breath and stretching so hard that his body shook. He rolled his way off of the couch, sliding one limb off at a time until he was technically off the couch, but still laying down. Without warning, he popped up, grabbing Liam around the neck in a playful headlock. Liam managed to squirm his way out and gave a death glare to Theo as he smoothed his hair back down. 

“God, I hate you with every inch of my body.” 

“Well, guess what, dude? That’s not very many inches.” 

Liam continued to scowl, makings his way into the dining room, Theo laughing as he followed close behind. Everyone else was already gathered around the table, looking much more alert and put together than the other two boys. The smile faded from Theo’s face as Scott started talking, bringing them all up to speed about what had happened overnight and early in the morning. 

The Men of Letters had landed in Los Angeles overnight and were on their way to Beacon Hills. Theo, Liam, Corey, Hayden and Mason were told to go to school as normal, that Sam and Dean would get the British settled in before they would let Scott know what was going on, who would, in turn, contact Liam. All of them complained, mumbling about how there were more important things than calculus to worry about. Scott was insistent, though, and followed Hayden’s truck almost all the way to the high school. 

Third period had just started when the five of them had been called into the principal’s office, only to be escorted out by a group of men with guns bigger than seemed necessary. In a single filed line, they marched into the gymnasium, Corey leading the group while Theo ended the line, the muzzle of a gun pressed firmly into the center of his back. Once they got into the gym, they were only a little surprised to find Scott, Stiles and Malia already there, along with various other members of the town, including Sheriff Stilinski and Alan Deaton. The two Stilinski men stood shoulder to shoulder, deep in conversation. Scott and Malia stood only a few feet away, still able to hear the entire conversation, even though it was being held in no more than a whisper. Theo and Liam quickly joined them, Theo immediately demanding to know ‘what the fuck was going on.’ 

The armed men were British Men of Letters. The people they were filing into the gym were either all supernatural or allies to the supernatural. It seemed their plan of helping the town of Beacon Hills find The Butcher was short-lived. A set of doors on the west end of the gym suddenly opened and a group of about seven men walked in, all armed to the teeth. One stood out from the rest, his head held high as he glanced at the people in the room, an air of superiority surrounding him. He jumped onto the unfolded bleachers, walking up several rows until he was the highest one in the room. 

“Excuse me, excuse me!” his voice was deep and demanding, but still gentle due to the wilt of the British accent. “My name is Arthur Ketch. I work within an organization known as the Men of Letters and we deal with... unique situations, such as the one your little town is in.” 

The McCall pack stole glances with one another, their uneasiness turning into panic with each word that Arthur spoke. 

“I’m afraid Beacon Hills is a total loss. The damage done here is irreversible. I’m afraid, by direct  
order of my superiors, that the project is to be terminated. May God have mercy on your souls.” 

There was only a brief pause before the shooting started. 

Scott saw the woman in the front row fall. Her lifeless body was still on its way to the floor when he shifted himself into a werewolf. 

“RUN!” he howled at his pack, himself and Malia pushing Stiles, the Sheriff and Deaton behind them. Liam roared once and took off towards a pair of militia men, ducking and dodging the few bullets that sprayed out of their weapons before he made it to them and dug his claws into their throats, one in each hand. Theo roared, running after Liam, taking down anyone who tried to get in his way. Corey quickly grabbed Mason’s hand, turning them both invisible as they tried to find the quickest way out of the gym that was out of the line of fire. Hayden worked her way over to Scott and Malia, wanting to do what should could to protect the humans of their pack. The smell of blood and gunpowder filled the room quickly, choking almost everyone in the room. There was an explosion of bullets near the far end of the gym, as someone had gotten ahold of one of the militia’s guns and taken out the gym door. There was a flood of people all at once heading for the exit, resulting in a blood bath for both sides. Scott, Malia and Hayden herded their group out another set of doors, their path cleared by Theo and Liam.


	18. Chapter 18

The Sheriff wondered why they hadn’t heard anything from the students and teachers still left in the school, but as they ran into the hallway, he realized no one else was there. The British Men of Letters had trapped the people they wanted in the gym and escorted those they viewed as ‘innocent’ out of the building. It was only a few feet from the gymnasium to the exit, the glass doors allowing in a flood of sunlight, of freedom. 

“Wait!” Hayden yelled, pointing at the handles. Every single door had been fitted with an explosive device, armed to go off should anyone attempt to leave the building. They should have known escaping wasn’t going to be that easy. Scott turned to the right, leading the group down the long hallway between the gym and the classrooms. They passed the administration offices, the doors shut, lights off, not another soul in sight. The gate guarding the band room had been put into place, giving any escapees one less place to hide. They turned a corner, entering into the art department, only to be met with a hail of gunfire. Scott swung Hayden back, a bullet hitting the wall directly behind the spot where her head just was. 

“I know we don’t have much time, but we need a plan!” The screams heard from the gymnasium only further proved the fragile time limit. It was only a matter of time before the Brits noticed that people had made it out of the doors and were roaming in the high school. If they had any form of communication with the group guarding the art department, they already knew. 

“Move!” Theo yelled, as he pushed his way to the front of the group. “I have a plan. I’ll be the bait.” 

Before anyone could stop him, he had taken off down the hallway towards the small group of mercenaries, a roar escaping him, followed by several screams. 

“NO!” Liam screamed, Scott and Stiles both straining to hold on to him as he attempted to turn the corner to join Theo. At least one person was taken out, the loud thud of a body hitting the floor. Scott could still hear gunfire so he didn’t think the fallen was Theo. He motioned for Hayden to look around the corner. She caught a quick glimpse of Theo taking off towards the south end of the school, a grin on his face as the other two mercenaries followed, their bullets flying past Theo’s head as he zig-zagged down the hallway. She nodded. Letting go of Liam, Scott followed quickly behind, the way now clear for the rest of his group to follow. He knew he would have to book it if he didn’t want Liam getting ahead of him. 

“Guys!” 

Scott turned to see Corey and Mason following quickly behind them, Corey forcing the pair visible once they were in close range. 

“We have an idea.” 

Liam and Hayden had already taken off towards Theo, making sure he stayed safe and that the mercenaries following him couldn’t be a threat to any of their pack. Mason looked at the rest of the group and went into detail about how half of them could head towards the science wing and exit the building that way, while the other half could go upstairs to the library, hoping to cut through there to reach the exits in the cafeteria. Whatever group made it out first would get help and come back to find the others. There were enough hiding spaces in both of those areas that if they needed to lay low for a while, they would likely be able to do so without the Men of Letters finding them. Mason, Corey, the Sheriff and Malia took off towards the science department; Scott, Stiles and Deaton towards the cafeteria. Scott didn’t like separating from Malia but knew that Corey couldn’t be the only supernatural creature in his group. Even though he could easily hide them all with his invisibility, he wouldn’t be strong enough to take down many in a fight. 

The blood trail was easy enough to follow in order for Liam and Hayden to find Theo. Just outside of the English department lay one of the mercenaries, the other just around the corner. Liam shot a text to Scott and Mason, hoping one of them would think to look at their phones and let them know the plan. Mason reached him first, explaining where everyone was heading. If they could ever find Theo, they would head towards the science wing to find Mason and Corey. A hand shot out of an alcove pulling Liam in as he hollered and Hayden’s head whipping around. A hand quickly placed itself over his mouth. 

“Shut up, you idiot, it’s me.” 

Theo didn’t look any worse for the wear. Liam felt his heart pound as he scanned over the rest of him, making sure he was really there and really unharmed. The thought of something happening to Theo shook Liam to his core and he didn’t know why. Theo had died before and Liam had felt nothing. He had threatened to kill the guy himself and had broken his nose at least three times. Liam didn’t know what had changed. He was still an ass, but he was here, he was fine. The only evidence that he was even in a fight was the blood caking his hands. Suddenly aware of one of those hands being over his mouth and the closeness of Theo’s body in the small alcove, Liam pulled away, his faced flushed. 

“Well, quit standing there. We have to go find everyone else.” 

The trio walked quickly towards the science wing, only having to take out a single mercenary on the way. For being such a highly organized group, the Men of Letters seemed to have a lot of confidence in themselves that they were going to kill everyone in the gymnasium and not have to worry about many escaping. It wasn’t long before they found the group, who appeared only for a split second before Corey heard them approaching and cloaked the four of them. Quickly realizing who had happened upon them, the group was visible again. Corey grabbed Hayden for a hug as Mason patted Liam on the shoulder. 

“Is everyone ok?” Malia asked, scanning over the group and focusing on Theo’s blood-stained hands. 

“This isn’t mine,” he said, attempting to use his shirt to wipe some of it off, but only seeming to make it worse. “Any luck on getting out of here?” 

Malia shook her head, explaining the doors were barred with explosives, just like the front doors, but that Scott and Stiles had made it out and were on their way with reinforcements. All they had to do was lay low and avoid being found until they could return. 

It was wishful thinking, as they looked towards the door of the chemistry room they were hiding in only to see the face of Arthur Ketch.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: violence

“MOVE!” Malia screamed, grabbing onto the Sheriff and running in one direction, as Corey and the rest of them moved in the opposite. A door slammed in the back of the room; Malia and the Sheriff had made it out through the chemical storage area. Corey motioned for them all to hold onto him, cloaking them all in invisibility just as Ketch kicked the door down. 

“I know you’re in here. Don’t think you can hide from me, chameleon boy.” 

The group inched itself down the wall of the classroom, desperately trying to move with fluidity, which was proving to be impossible with five people all unable to see what the rest of the group was doing. 

“We have to split up,” Liam whispered, his voice so low that only the supernatural creatures of the group were able to hear his demand. “Hayden and Corey, stay here. Keep Mason safe. Theo, on the count of three.” Liam could feel Theo, almost as if he was reading this mind. He was ready to go, all he needed was Liam’s word. 

“One. Two....” 

“THREE!” Theo yelled, breaking from the group and sprinting towards the door, throwing Ketch off-guard. He punched him in the face, his nose immediately breaking and oozing blood. It was the second time that day that Theo had attempted to sacrifice himself. It was beginning to piss Liam off. 

“BLOODY HELL!” Ketch screamed, grabbing his face with his left hand while pulling a pistol out of his belt with the right. Clicking the safety off with his thumb, he pointed the barrel down the hallway where Theo had just taken off, his eyes steady on his target. His index finger hovered over the trigger as he followed Theo down the hallway. 

“STAY AWAY FROM HIM!” Liam let go of Corey, running towards Ketch and sinking his teeth into this right arm, the gun falling to the ground. He kicked the pistol towards his group of friends and ran after Theo, catching up to him in only a few minutes. 

The pair ducked and dodged throughout the hallways, working their way across the school back to the gymnasium. Theo had somehow convinced Liam that the gym would be quieter now, with everyone either dead or escaped, and may be their best chance at getting out of the building. Liam had to admit it was the last place he would have expected them to go and, out of ideas himself, agreed to it as they ran. If he knew anything about Theo, it was his ability to survive in even the direst of circumstances. His grey eyes were wild as he looked back towards Liam, a smile breaking out over his face as the path to safety came into view. 

They entered the gym through the back hallway, passing the door to the boys’ locker room as the fluorescent glow of the gym lights covered them. Theo had been right about one thing: the gymnasium was definitely quieter. A sea of dead bodies, both of Beacon Hills residents and Men of Letters, littered the floor, coating the room in silence. One thing Theo wasn’t right about, though: this definitely wasn’t the escape to freedom that he thought it was going to be. Several Men of Letters were standing at the front entrance, loading bodies into the back of vans. Those who weren’t doing the manual labor stood with their weapons ready, a sick kind of hall monitor, just daring anyone to try and leave the school without their permission. 

“Look! There’s two more!” 

The Men of Letters at the entrance had spotted the pair, but Liam was ready, his eyes already glowing, his fangs barred. Those were his friends lying dead in the gym. His neighbors. He knew if Scott had been in his position, he would do anything he could to keep his home of Beacon Hills safe. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of sex but nothing graphic

Or so he thought. 

Theo grabbed Liam by the scruff of the neck on his shirt, pulling him into the locker room just before a blaze of bullets came their way. He slammed the door shut, pulling on the closest line of lockers not attached to the wall to try and barricade the door. 

“A little help would be nice!” he shouted, knowing full well by the sound of Liam’s heartbeat that he wasn’t going to be getting any. He successfully pulled the lockers in front of the door, turning to brace himself against them, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. They would be safe in there, at least until Scott and Stiles could come back with help. Hopefully the rest of the group was still safe. Just as he’d started to settle and slow his breathing back to a normal level, he felt a smack in the middle of his chest. 

“Why did you do that?” Liam screamed, his eyes bright yellow and his fangs barred, “why did you pull me out of that fight?!” 

“What are you talking about, Liam? It wasn’t a fight! It was a massacre! They could have killed you! No, let me rephrase that, they WOULD have killed you! Are you insane? I did you a favor!” 

“Well, fucking STOP! I don’t need you and I don't need your favors. My friends are out there! You don’t know if they’re okay! You don’t know who has made it out or not! You’re just willing to let them die!” 

“Maybe I am!” Theo yelled, his voice cracking. His eyes were still the same steely grey, but a new line of perspiration was starting to form on the top of his forehead. His hands twitched as he dug his fingers into his fists, causing pain to stop himself from turning. “Maybe I am willing to let them die if it means saving you.” 

“And why do you keep doing that? Why do you keep saving me? Do you think saving me, helping me out will give you the redemption you’re looking for? Do you think I’m going to forgive you for everything you’ve done just because you’ve helped me out in a fight? What is it, Theo? What? Why do you keep helping me?” 

“Because I’m in love with you!” 

Theo’s eyes were wide and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. He hadn’t meant to scream that last sentence, but his mind wasn’t in control anymore, his body was. And all his body could do was scream for Liam. Liam was only the second person Theo had ever fallen in love with in his 19 years of life. Normally, Theo thought only of himself, but there was something about the little wolf that made Theo crazy; he would gladly give his life over if it meant saving him. Maybe it was the way he fought tooth and nail for his friends; maybe it was the way he spoke before he thought, usually resulting in something stupid coming out of his mouth; maybe it was those big blue eyes which were currently boring into his soul. Theo wasn't sure. Liam was still staring at him, hardly blinking, not having made a peep since Theo’s outburst. Unsure if he should make the next move, Theo took a hesitant step towards Liam, who only responded by taking a step back. 

“You... you, what?” Liam’s eyes were wide and his mouth had suddenly gone dry. He tried his hardest to swallow, his throat feeling like it would collapse at any minute. His heart was pounding, although he wasn’t sure if that was still from anger or from Theo’s confession. His eyes raced over Theo’s face, trying to read anything on it at all. For the first time, Theo looked... innocent. The cold exterior he normally had was starting to melt. 

“I know you heard me the first time.” 

Theo could see the wheels spinning in Liam’s head. It was agonizing. He took another step towards Liam, and, this time, Liam didn’t step back. In fact, Liam took another step forward, bringing them within just a few feet of each other. Before Theo could even plan what his next move was going to be, Liam closed the space between them, flattening his palms on Theo’s chest as he pressed their lips together. Theo immediately held his breath and felt the muscles tense up in his shoulders and neck. He honestly thought Liam was coming towards him to punch him in the face. He wasn’t ready. And now that Liam was here, fulfilling every daydream that Theo had had for weeks, his mind was suddenly blank, unsure of what he should do next. Liam moved one of his hands up Theo’s chest, gripping tightly to the side of his neck. Theo’s heart thumped once, loudly, and he could feel Liam smiling against his lips. 

“I heard that.” 

Theo managed to find Liam’s eyes, which were back to his everyday blue but as aflame as if they were werewolf yellow. He grinned and spun Liam around, pushing him against the locker that was barricading the door. His lips were hungry for all of Liam: his mouth, his cheeks, his neck, but, no matter where Theo was kissing, he still couldn’t get enough. His fingers traced the bottom hem of Liam’s shirt, flakes of caked on blood lingering at the ends of the material, and he could feel the warmth of his skin radiating underneath. He pushed the cotton up and felt his hands slide across Liam’s chest, the skin smooth and hot to the touch. His hands made their way up, pulling Liam’s shirt over his head before grasping the sides of his face. Liam’s hands were everywhere, making their way from Theo’s hair to his waist and back. 

Liam kissed Theo with a ferocity he didn’t know he had. He didn’t know this was what it was supposed to feel like. Kissing Hayden was like drowning: he could get lost in it and not want to come back, but kissing Theo was more like escaping a burning building. He could feel the heat all over his body, his breath short as it was forcibly being taken from him. His brain was screaming that he had to keep going, keep moving forward, before he was gone completely. 

He loosened the grip Theo had on him and looked into his eyes: they were wild, crazy and beautiful. Still staring at his lips Theo whispered “what?” “I never noticed the color of your eyes. They’re grey.” Theo smiled and buried his face into Liam’s neck, the softness of his lips making Liam shiver. They wandered along his collarbone, slowly zig-zagging their way across his chest, special care taken as Theo bit gently at the sensitive skin on Liam’s stomach. He had his thumbs in the waistband of Liam’s basketball shorts; it would only take the slightest of movements to remove them, but Theo hesitated. He smiled and stood back up, but Liam immediately pushed him back down, a grin spreading across his face as he pulled at Theo’s hair.  
“Okay, Dumb-bar, take it easy.” Theo laughed as he once again pressed his lips onto Liam’s stomach, the burn of Liam’s skin making him gasp. He laced his fingers into Liam’s and he took his mouth away from Liam’s body to press a gentle kiss onto his hand. He looked up at him and Liam pulled him back up to the standing position, keeping his one hand intertwined with Theo’s as he ran his other hand through his hair. As long as Theo could look at him, keep Liam within a touch, he could forget everything. Forget the last year. Forget the Dread Doctors. Hell, forget the war that was going on right outside of the room they were in. Right now, it was Liam. His Liam. 

The sound of glass shattering brought them both back down to Earth. Theo whipped around, his shirt hanging from him in shatters, his werewolf claws already out and ready to attack. He pushed Liam behind him, still protective even though he knew he was just as capable of fighting off whatever was coming through that window. 

“You two need a minute or are you ready to get the hell out of here?”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: violence, mentions of blood

Malia grinned from ear to ear, her eyes bright with mischief. Any hope that she hadn’t seen what had just happened between them was shattered. It was clear that she had seen everything. She motioned the boys towards her and started heading to the back of the locker room, presumably to the open window that she had just broken. Theo shrugged off the remaining bits of his shirt as Liam struggled to fling his back on. Theo gave one quick glance to Liam, who smiled, before heading after Malia. As much as he was enjoying this moment, he knew there would be many more of them, but only if they could get out of this high school. 

The windows to the locker room ran across the top of the ceiling: enough to get light into the room but not enough to invade the privacy of the teenagers changing within it. Malia gave a sharp whistle and a rope fell down through the window. She waved Theo and Liam on, wanting them to start the climb before she closed out the rear. Theo grabbed onto the rope first, Liam quickly behind him. Theo was almost to the top when a familiar hand shot through the window, reaching to help pull him to safety. Scott gripped strongly onto Theo’s hand, pulling him onto the asphalt of the school parking lot. 

“Where is your shirt?” he asked, before quickly leaning in to pull Liam through the window. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Malia yelled, still inside the locker room, only a few feet behind Liam. Scott shrugged, thinking it was probably for his own good that he didn’t know, as Malia’s hand emerged from the window. After they were all safely out of the school, he motioned for them to follow, keeping his frame ducked down to stay somewhat behind the first line of cars parked in the lot. Rounding the corner to the north side of the gym, Liam saw the familiar blue shade of Stiles’ Jeep and breathed a sigh of relief. No matter they had gone through, that thing was always there. Stiles was in the front seat, engine running, his face panicked as he leaned over the passenger seat to open the door. 

“It took you long enough. Come on! Get in!” 

Theo jumped into the Jeep first, settling into the far side of the backseat. Liam jumped in next and had only just sat down when he heard Malia annoyingly snap “Move!” He moved so that he was in the middle of the seat, smashed on top of Theo, as Malia pulled herself into the back. She swung the seat backward. Scott climbed into the passenger seat and Stiles immediately put the Jeep into drive, the Jeep screeching as he accelerated. Sitting in the backseat like three sardines in a can, Liam was now extremely aware of Theo’s presence and his body next to his. He felt his face flush as Theo’s hand rested just next to his thigh, their skin barely making contact, yet it felt like fire. He squirmed in his seat, forcing himself to look forward even though he knew Theo was next to him, not wearing anything from the waist up. 

“Dude, where is your shirt? Get it together,” Stiles shouted as he reached into the backseat, asking Malia for the duffel bag that was on the floor. 

“There are a few shirts in there. I’m sure not one of them will fit, but, try ‘em out, bud.” 

Malia threw the first one towards Theo, a light blue t-shirt which was, indeed, about a size too small. 

“There. Now at least your boobs aren’t staring at me. It was getting weird. Okay, so, we’re meeting the Winchesters at the hospital. They have some news for us and we can get everyone patched up, if needed. And before you ask,” he stared at Malia through the rearview mirror, “I have no idea what kind of news they have. They didn’t say. Just said to meet them. They’re the experts and they’re kind of scary so I just said sure.” 

Silence fell upon the Jeep. The vehicle rattled and strained. Taking on the weight of four werewolves was a struggle for the old girl. Liam could almost forget everything going on around them, until a blast of gunfire and the sound of screams brought them all back to reality. He suddenly remembered what exactly was going on at the school and jumped forward in his seat, almost launching himself into Scott’s lap. 

“We have to go back! Mason! Corey! Hayden! They’re all still there! We lost them in the science department! Stiles, turn around! TURN AROUND!” he could feel his fingernails digging into the front seat as they started to transform into claws. A quick glance into the rearview mirror showed his eyes had already taken on the bright yellow hue of a turn and his fangs wouldn’t be far behind. How could he be so stupid? How could he have gotten so distracted that he left his friends to just die? A howl overcame him, shaking the windows of the car as the anxiety escaped his body. Stiles jerked the wheel as he was startled, almost taking all of them into the ditch. 

“LIAM!” Scott yelled, his entire body turned around in the passenger seat. Liam heard nothing. His vision was red with blood as the anger surged through him. 

“Theo, DO SOMETHING!” Malia screamed, fangs barred. The howl had triggered the change in her, too, and she reached out towards Stiles, who was already chanting a mantra in her direction. 

“YOU GOT THIS MALIA. CONTROL ISN’T EVERYTHING. BREATHE.” 

An inhuman screech escaped her body as she lashed at the plastic window next to her, easily tearing a hole. 

“HEY! HEY! NOT THE JEEP!” 

The chaos in the car was overwhelming. Stiles was frantically trying to keep the Jeep on the road, losing his focus as he tried to calm Malia, keep out of the reach of Liam and get the five of them somewhere safe. He had thought escaping the high school would be the hardest part of the journey and foolishly thought they were safe once they had taken off down the road. 

“THEO!” Stiles and Malia screamed his name at the same time, just as Liam had turned his body around and was starting to tear into the rear window. It would only be a few seconds before he had the window open and could get out. The last thing they needed was a werewolf loose in the midst of a battle against werewolf hunters. 

“Liam!” he shouted, grasping his forearm with one of his hands, stopping Liam from tearing any further into the Jeep’s old plastic. Liam’s head whipped around and he thrashed out at Theo, his teeth only centimeters away from Theo’s face. “Liam, what three things cannot long be hidden? LIAM. TELL ME.” The grip he had on Liam’s arm was tightening and he could feel the warm ooze of blood start to seep into his fingernails. “Come on, Liam! Say it with me: the sun, the moon, the--” before Theo could get the last word out, Liam lashed at him again, this time his claws connecting with Theo’s face. “Fuck it,” he muttered, blood starting to spill down his cheeks. He forced his fangs forward, his eyes yellow and mixed with a combination of fury and concern. He sunk his teeth into Liam’s bicep, the howl emitting from him making him shiver. He tore out, blood quickly pooling into Liam’s shirt sleeve. All at once, Liam went from fierce predator back to a frightened kid. His eyes went from yellow to blue and his fangs retreated into his body as he shrunk himself into a ball. Panic written across his face as he stared at Theo. 

“Shit!” Theo yelled, ripping a piece of his shirt clean off so he could wrap Liam’s arm. “I’m so sorry. Liam. Look at me. Look at me!” Liam’s eyes met Theo’s and his face blanched. Theo wrapped the tourniquet as tight as he possibly could. He knew it wouldn't take long for the wound to heal itself, but he didn’t need Liam to bleed out before that could happen. 

“Theo, what did you do?!” Stiles screamed. 

“He’s fine, okay? I got him to stop, just like you asked! Now keep fucking driving!” 

He took Liam’s face in both of his hands, staring directly into his eyes. 

“You’re going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.” 

“I’m sorry,” Liam mumbled, his body beginning to relax, at the same time the shivers of blood loss setting in. “You are my anchor. And I couldn’t find you. I’m sorry.” Theo brought Liam’s head into his chest, stroking his hair as he wrapped his arms around him. 

“Everything is going to be okay, Liam. I promise.” His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, making sure Stiles wasn't looking, before he kissed the top of his head, briefly glancing at the wound on his arm. The blood stain had seemingly stopped spreading. Malia was already quiet in the corner, Scott turned around in his seat so he could perform the same ritual with her: stroking her cheek and insuring her that everything was fine. Both he and Theo knew that everything was definitely not fine, but they were going to do everything they could to keep Malia and Liam in a bubble, away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.


	22. Chapter 22

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Braeden’s eyes seeped fury as she stared at Sam and Dean. The Winchester brothers had only one task for the day, get Arthur Ketch into custody, and had failed. The two had met a lot of strong-willed women in their lives, but Braeden was one of the more intimidating. 

“It wasn’t... exactly our fault.” 

“You two were in charge of Ketch. That’s all you wanted. Whose fault is it exactly?” 

Earlier that day, meeting the British Men of Letters had started out seemingly normal. The owner of the Beacon Inn was delighted when Sam had asked to rent out their “conference room,” which he soon found out was just the dining room with a note placed over the door to allude to privacy. Ketch had filed in with a handful of Men of Letters, none of whom were deemed important enough for introductions, and immediately began to give Sam and Dean their plan of action, or, at least, what they had said was their plan of action. They were going to lay a trap for the Butcher, using Deputy Jordan Parrish as the bait. Neither the American or British versions of the Men of Letters had heard of a hellhound manifesting itself inside a human body and they knew the Butcher would be intrigued by the prospect of capturing such an elusive prize for himself. Ketch made Parrish promise that once this was all over, he would subject himself to a few tests, only for the Men of Letters to learn more about his kind and to help them better understand his version of hellhound. Having laid a plan in place, the British had taken off with Parrish, leaving Sam, Dean, and Mick at the Beacon Inn to pool over the information packets that had been left for them. After only a half hour of radio silence, Dean could feel something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what. 

The door to the conference room slammed open at that point. Braeden stood with one of the British agents in her hands, gun pressed to his temple as she walked him into the room. The Winchesters, oblivious to the double-crossing that was occurring, hadn’t even realized someone was guarding the door. Braeden went on to explain there was a situation at the high school. The Men of Letters had trapped what supernatural creatures they could in the gym and had started murdering them in cold blood. Sam felt his own blood chill as he thought about the McCall pack; Scott had been so insistent that morning that the younger members still go to school. The four of them quickly devised a plan, with Sam and Dean adamant that they would be the ones to go to the high school and bring Arthur Ketch into custody. Braeden and Mick just wanted to try and save as many people as they kid from inside of the high school. 

With no time to plan, the Winchesters had had to go into the school almost completely blind. Castiel had helped where he could, but the Men of Letters had prepared for the angel’s appearance, having shroud the high school in anti-angel sigils. Sam and Dean had taken out a few Men of Letters but it wasn’t long before they had been overtaken, knocked out, tied up and stashed away in the girl’s locker room. The Winchesters eventually made their way out; they had years of practice of escaping from bondage, but, at that point, the majority of the Men of Letters had escaped the high school, including Arthur Ketch. 

Sitting in the Beacon Inn once again, Sam and Dean were exhausted, leaning over the conference room table, unable to sit up properly on their own. Braeden stood at the head of the table, still furious; their answer not good enough in her mind. People had died. Children had died. Someone had to pay for the massacre that had happened, and their plans to catch the Butcher and find Derek Hale were pushed even further back now. Her heart skipped a beat at the idea that Derek would never be found, which was quickly becoming more and more likely. Beacon Hills was always filled with nightmares; this situation was no different. But, every time something had happened, there had always been a ray of hope. Right now, Braeden couldn’t find anything, not even one beam of promise, that things were going to be okay. 

Like an oasis in the desert, Mick Davies made his way back to the Beacon Inn at that moment. Shirt in tatters, blood streaming down his leg as he limped his way into the Inn, he had two men behind him, a shadow silently following him, as he waved for the owner of the Inn to calm down as she screamed in distress over his bloodied clothes and body. Sam and Dean ran towards Mick, forcing him to sit down and explain everything that had happened. Mick told a story that was similar to theirs: a blind storm into the high school ending with capture. Only his story had a different ending. 

“There is someone I want you guys to meet and I think you’re going to be very interested in what he has to say. Winchesters, meet Cameron Beachard. Cameron, Sam and Dean Winchester. I’m afraid I don’t remember the name of the beautiful woman in the corner holding a rifle but I’m sure she’ll introduce herself. Sweetie?” 

Mick motioned for Braeden who immediately cocked her rifle, firing a shot just above Mick’s head. The four men ducked, each of them pulling out a gun of their own before they looked over and saw the smirk on Braeden’s face. If she had wanted to kill Mick, she would have. 

“First of all, I’m not your sweetie. Second, you,” her voice filled with venom as she pointed in the direction of Cameron, “better get to explaining what you’re doing here. Lastly, my name is Braeden Howard.” 

Dean turned towards Sam, knowing he was going to regret his next words, but unable to hold them back. 

“I don’t know if I should be scared or turned on.” 

In a second he was on the floor, a high-heeled boot digging into his chest as he struggled to breathe. 

“Yeah, scared. Definitely scared.” 

“Good answer. Shall we?” Braeden motioned for the rest of them to follow her back into the conference room, leaving Dean Winchester on the floor of the lobby, defeated but still slightly aroused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Braeden was never given a last name on the show. I gave her the last name 'Howard' as a nod to the movie Teen Wolf (1985), in which the main character's name is Scott Howard, instead of Scott McCall.


	23. Chapter 23

The Jeep was still in silence as they pulled to the back entrance of Beacon Memorial. The ambulances that were normally parked there gone, likely headed to the high school or Eichen House to tend to those who they had left behind. Physically, the only wounded members were Theo and Liam, who were both already on the mend, but they still quickly moved to find Melissa McCall to help them out. 

She sewed a few stitches into Liam’s arm, even though it was only going to be an hour before the wound was fully healed. The scratches on Theo’s face were no deeper than a cat scratch by the time she had gotten around to looking at him. Scott thanked her and asked where the Winchester brothers were. Melissa pointed them in the direction of a private patient room, warning them that they were going to need to sit down for the news the Winchesters had to give. 

**Somewhere above Beacon Hills**

Derek felt the pressure on his body before he was even fully awake. His eardrums pressed into his skull, almost like he was underwater, and his entire body felt heavy. Opening one eye, he made out a small, round window, clouds flying by, the sun bright above them. He attempted to lift his hand to shield his eyes, but found them to be shackled to the seat, along with both of his legs. 

“Sorry about that. Didn’t know how much longer you were going to be out and we couldn’t have you roaming about the cabin now, could we?” 

Derek could barely make out the form of his captor. He couldn’t help but be startled at the sound of his voice, which he had yet to reveal before today. It was strong, sure of every word that he said. The arrogance slipped through in his tone; he knew Derek was completely trapped under his control and he liked it. This was definitely a man who liked to be in charge. What surprised Derek the most, though, was his accent. He wasn’t expecting a British accent from someone so menacing and violent. 

“Unfortunately, we just started our journey and have a lot more to go. We’ll have you in your final resting place soon. You should only be so lucky to be placed in the soils of our Great Britain.” 

Derek couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Yeah, this was definitely a guy who just wanted to hear himself talk. He noticed then that his captor was bleeding, the deep, red ichor seeping through several layers of bandages. Derek noticed the see the line of perspiration forming on the man’s forehead, could smell the flesh on his arm as venom burned through his body. 

“You were bitten, weren’t you?” Derek’s voice was rough, his throat dry and cracked after weeks of torture, but he still managed to coat his words in delight. The man’s face changed; what was once strong and confident fell to disgust, his nose curled as he looked at the bandages on his arm. 

“Yes, a rather unfortunate accident at the hands of the young Liam Dunbar. He got his payback, though.” 

Derek didn’t know what the man meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The good news was, Liam’s bite wasn’t enough to turn the man into a werewolf. One had to be an Alpha in order to do that. The bad news was, it was still a werewolf bite and could give Ketch werewolf powers, like super strength or the ability to see and hear long distances. Not exactly the condition one would want to find him in order to have a fair fight. A man came out of the pilot’s cabin and walked over, whispering something to Derek’s captor before turning around and closing him back inside with the pilot. 

“Well, good news, we’re at cruising altitude so we can sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. Well, you might not enjoy the ride but I sure will.” An evil grin spread over him as he brought his face within inches of Derek. “If you thought torture on the ground was rough, wait until you see what qualifies you for the-mile-high club in my plane.” 

“Dude, gross.” 

The man snapped his fingers and a woman appeared out of nowhere, handing him a glass of ice and a decanter of what smelled like gin. The man poured a drink as he pulled out his phone, hitting only one number on his speed dial before place the phone to his ear. 

“We’re on our way. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with the...” his eyes looked Derek up and down “...specimen that I’m bringing. Yes. Yes. Excellent.” He hung up the phone without any warning, simply a press of the button and the conversation was over. 

Derek suddenly heard a snarl from the back of the plane, which was blocked off by thick, dark curtains. The light scent of smoke hung in the air and Derek’s eyes widened as he made the realization of who must have been hiding behind them. 

“What did you do?” 

The man’s face had an evil grin to it, his canines barred as he looked at Derek. 

“Did you think you were the only monster in Beacon Hills that was worth something?” 

He leaned back into his chair, sipping on his gin, completely unphased by the Hellhound trapped in the pack of his plane. Clearly, he knew something Derek didn’t about what was hiding behind the curtain. 

“You’d be best to worry about yourself. The other creatures on this plane are of no concern to you.” 

“They are if the entire plane catches fire and we all burn in a devastating plane crash.” 

The man snapped his fingers and two men appeared from the front of the plane that Derek hadn’t even noticed. They forced Derek to standing and walked him to the back of the plane, pulling back the curtain and unveiling half a dozen steel cages. Only a few had any occupants, including the one holding Jordan Parrish. They opened another and threw Derek inside, locking the door with a dull thud behind him. His ears began to pop as the plane made a sharp turn and he winced. It was going to be a long flight to England. 

“Anytime you want to take this whole thing down, go ahead,” he mumbled to Parrish, who only stared, his chest burning with the red-hot flames from Hell. 

“Cool, cool. I’ll just go fuck myself, then.” 

He looked at the only other occupied cage on the plane, surprised that he didn’t recognize the face of the man sitting inside. He thought he knew all of the supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills. 

“What are you in for?” he asked, not expecting much of a response. The man looked like he had been tortured for hours, his hair matted and bloody, the clothes he was wearing splattered with red that couldn’t have all been his. The man only grumbled as he fought to stand up, grasping the bars of the cage but quickly ripping his hands back as something in the material burned him. A high-pitched whine filled the room, making Derek force his hands over his ears, trying to protect them from the noise. A pair of black wings protruded from the back of the man, out of place from the tattered trench coat he was wearing. 

“Where is Dean Winchester?”


	24. Chapter 24

The private room was technically registered to a ‘Robert Singer’ and had a bright note on the door indicating that whoever was in the room was highly contagious and no one should enter without the proper personal protective equipment. The sign was very obviously ignored as the five of them entered the room, finding Sam and Dean standing near the windows talking to a man they didn’t know. The guy was tall, standing just under the chin of Sam, making him about 6’2”. His hair was so blonde that it almost looked white and grew almost down to his shoulders. He had it tucked behind his ears at the moment but his hand still found its way up to his face to push back the invisible hair that had fallen into it. His eyes were a deep, dark brown and were a striking contrast to the delicate features of his face and the paleness of his hair and skin. His voice was light, almost sounding like it was floating in the air, and had a slight accent to it, although Scott wasn’t able to place where the accent was from. 

The Winchester boys looked at the McCall pack as they entered the room, surprised that they had made it in one piece, if only a few members of the group were missing. Their faces were sullen as they told everyone to get comfortable. Sam started first by apologizing. He had no idea the Men of Letters were going to overstep the boundaries that they did. He had no idea they were in Beacon Hills for anything other than capturing The Butcher. Scott felt bad listening to Sam apologize profusely. He had only done what he thought was best and he had lost his mom in the process. 

“The most important thing we wanted to tell you today is that we’ve found The Butcher.” The room erupted with questions, comments and a few choice words screamed out by Malia and Theo. How could the Winchester brothers keep this a secret? How could they just wait to share the information? Why weren’t they at the high school? 

“Shut up!” Dean yelled, as a blanket of silence covered the room. “If you’d give Sammy a chance to speak, he’d actually be able to answer some of your questions.” 

“Uh. Thanks Dean. Like I said, we’ve found The Butcher. And, uh...” Sam fell to a silence as he motioned to the blonde man he had been speaking to when they entered the room. 

“Him? HE’S the Butcher? He doesn’t smell like a werewolf.” 

“I’m not The Butcher. I’m A Butcher.” The lightness of his voice added an air of authority and Liam's outburst quickly fell silent as he spoke. Everyone in the room had their eyes glued to the man. “My name is Cameron Beachard. I come from a long line of hunters who hail from France, just like the Argents. My family has hunted supernatural creatures for the better part of three centuries. ‘Beachard’ is the French word for ‘butcher.’ When people started telling legends of the Butcher, it wasn’t a moniker or pseudonym, it was just the last name of my family.” 

Cameron went on to explain that most of his family only hunted monsters that were threatening innocents, much like the Winchesters and the Argents when they were under Allison’s control. However, throughout the years there had been several members to go rogue, several who took things a little too far. The Butcher that the newspapers hailed as one of the greatest serial killers in the 20th century? A cousin by the name of Mark Beachard. His psychopathy and bloodlust forced him to kill any monster he could find, becoming so violent during the kill that the bodies would be torn to pieces. In an act of remorse, he would put them back together, taking the heart as a final assurance that whatever the creature was, it wasn’t coming back. The heart taking was a signature of the Beachard family, who had long learned that the methods that would normally kill a human wouldn’t necessarily work the same on all supernatural creatures. But all creatures needed a heart, so taking the ones from their victim ensured it wasn’t going to be coming back. It was gruesome and macabre and Cameron was fighting hard to learn the specifics of each monsters’ death, so the antiquated method could be put out of practice. 

The death of Mary Winchester had been a mistake. An attack that was targeted towards Peter Hale left an innocent dead in his place. The British Men of Letters had sent the French after Peter, explaining everything he had done in the history of Beacon Hills. None of it had been a lie, but Peter had long since paid for his misguided choices. The French had no idea Mary was even there, though they suspected the British did. Arthur Ketch had been wanting to get rid of Mary since he had first learned she had come back. What was dead should stay dead-- his exact phrasing. The French would never had attacked that morning had they known an innocent was in the apartment. Once they had entered that morning, they were immediately attacked by Peter, only a few feet away from the body of Mary, who had been taken out by the explosion which led to the French getting into the apartment in the first place. The French assumed she was another werewolf, a partner to Peter, when they had taken her heart. Cameron couldn’t apologize to the Winchesters enough. Sam and Dean were numb to the fact that they had lost Mary again. They had over thirty years’ experience of being without her, but that didn’t make the news of her death come any easier. 

The note that the Butcher had left for the Brits wasn’t some encrypted message or ominous harbinger of death. The French Men of Letters, the brother organization to the British and American versions, was ran by the Beachard family. Arthur Ketch knew exactly who the message was from: Cameron’s father, Armand, the head of the organization. Much like Beacon Hills was on the radar of the British Men of Letters, so was it on the map for the French. Ketch used the shortness of the message as a guise, tricking Mary and Mick into thinking someone, or something, was coming to Beacon Hills. 

The French had another reason for coming to Beacon Hills: a member of their group was a former resident and kept an eye out for his home away from France. 

“I think you all may know Isaac Lahey,” Cameron grinning, knowing the mentioning of Isaac was going to throw everyone in the room off-guard. 

There were a few gasps from the group. No one had heard from Isaac in years. He had run off to France with Christ Argent after Allison died but failed to return when Chris came back to the States. 

“Is Isaac here?” Scott questioned, hoping to see the face of his friend once again. 

“I’m afraid not. He’s actually the head of another mission. One I think you all will be excited to hear about: the rescue of Derek Hale.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: major character death

The door to the private room opened, Melissa McCall’s dark, unruly hair making its way through the opening first. Her face was ashen and grim. She opened her mouth to speak and quickly shut it, unsure of the right words to say to the group. 

“Mom? Are you ok?” 

“The rest... the rest of the group is back. Hayden... Corey... Mason.” 

“Where are they? Mom? Is everyone ok?” 

Melissa shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. 

“No, no baby. They aren’t all ok.” 

Liam fell to the floor, his body sliding like a dead weight down the wall. Theo immediately jumped from his seat, running over to Liam, grabbing a tight hold onto his hand and demanding that Liam look at him, keep his mind occupied. They didn’t know what had happened yet. Liam needed to take a breath. 

“Mom. Take me to them.” 

Melissa nodded as she led Scott out of the room, Malia following quickly behind him. 

“I... I need to go. Theo, I need to go there. Those are my friends. Theo, please.” Liam was pleading with Theo, his eyes wide and scared, his hands gripping so tightly to Theo’s arm that blood droplets were starting to form where nails met skin. Theo nodded, never taking his eyes away from Liam’s. 

“Okay. Liam. We’re going. But first, I need you to breathe. Breathe, Liam.” He inhaled sharply, exaggerating the movement in hopes of getting Liam to follow in suit. Liam took one breath in, his face shaking as his body desperately gasped for air. “There you go, perfect. You’re doing great.” His eyes left Liam’s only briefly to shoot a look at Stiles, who ran over and helped get Liam to his feet. One nod from Theo and Stiles backed off, rushing back to Lydia who was in tears. 

Theo and Liam made their way out the doors, the strength in Liam growing with each step. He knew something bad was waiting for him. One of his friends was dead. Maybe all of them. He spent the entire trip down the hallway imaging each of their faces, cold and lifeless in the morgue. He stumbled a few times; each time Theo was there to pick him back up. They hadn’t seen where Melissa had taken Scott and Malia but could smell the other werewolves, making their way down the hallway by scent only. The smell of a hospital was overwhelming: the chemo signals alone could confuse even the most will-minded werewolf, let alone the overlapping stenches of blood and bleach. 

The room in the emergency department was dimly lit. One figure lay on the bed, a sheet covering it in its entirety. Someone stood over the body, Scott, one hand gripping the sheet tightly, the other hand wrapped in Malia’s. Melissa stood in the corner, openly weeping as she held Hayden. Liam noticed a breath escape him when he saw her. She was alive, she was ok. He searched the rest of the room. Corey sat alone in a chair in the corner, his legs pulled underneath him, his eyes staring blankly ahead. 

“No, no, no...” the conclusion came to Liam slowly as he realized who was missing. He ran towards the bed and lifted the sheet, revealing Mason’s face underneath. 

“NO!” he screamed, the panes of glass in the door shaking underneath his howl. Theo ran forward to grab him but Scott put a hand out to stop him, shaking his head. Theo stopped in his tracks and took a step backward. It was painful for him to leave Liam there. To leave him to grieve by himself. 

Liam laid his head next to Mason’s, his cries tearing through his body. This was his best friend. The only person who had been nice to him when he first transferred to Beacon Hills. The only person who treated him like a human being after finding out he had been turned into a werewolf. He touched Mason’s face and found it cold, only reminding him again that his best friend was gone forever. His hands were shaking and he felt the slow, gentle rumble of a werewolf turn creeping its way along his body. He dug his fingernails into his palms but could still feel it happening. “Theo,” he mumbled, taking a step back from Mason’s body. Theo rushed forward, grabbing him. He spun him around, pulling Liam’s face into his neck, stroking his hair as he gripped tightly. He could feel Liam’s entire body shake as it fought between grief and the turn. 

“The sun. The moon. The truth,” he whispered over and over, his eyes closing as they started to fill with tears. Mason had told him once that he couldn’t take away someone else’s pain unless he felt it, too. God, all he wanted was to help Liam, take away his pain, but they were surrounded by people, ones who didn't know about what had happened earlier. Ones who wouldn't react well to seeing the two of them together. He decided he didn't care. He lifted Liam’s head in both of his hands, cupping his face underneath his chin. He kissed Liam gently on the mouth; at the same time, the familiar black lines flowed along the veins in his arms. He was taking away Liam’s pain, if only a little. Liam let the kiss end and pulled back, burying his face in Theo’s chest, his cries still heartbreakingly loud and guttural. Hayden walked over and she wrapped her arms around Liam, laying her head onto his back, listening to the sound of his heart. She reached her hand forward and grabbed Theo’s, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. He shifted his hand so he could run his thumb along the inside of her palm. He could feel her strength run through him, feel the sense of calm and serenity fall across the trio. The room fell silent except for the quiet cries of Melissa. The group stood for a long time, letting the silence overtake them as they came to terms with Mason’s death. 

They knew not everyone was going to make it out alive. Honestly, it was a miracle that only one of them hadn’t made it. But it still didn’t soften the blow of the loss of one of their own, especially one that was human. An innocent like Mason. Braeden walked into the room, making her way towards Malia without even a glance at anyone else, whispering something into her ear before she walked out. Braeden had been helpful during everything but distant. She didn’t join the group for their daily meetings and briefings, instead spending all of her time talking to those in her mercenary circle, finding her help from the outside. Her and Malia had gotten along well, though; both of them were loners, both of them had hurt those they loved. Braeden wasn’t a werewolf, but she was an Omega, just like Malia. 

“The British have him,” Malia said, her voice cracking as she spoke for the first time since they had reached the hospital. “The British Men of Letters have Derek.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Slightly graphic sex  
> Very brief mention of domestic abuse

“What’s your middle name?” 

“No, dude, it’s embarrassing. Tell me yours first.” 

“Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three. Karl.” 

“Eugene.” 

“Eugene?! Did your parents even love you??” 

“Like you have room to talk, Theodore Karl. Did your parents think their baby was a Civil War general?” 

The two had been awake for hours. Scott had finally gotten Liam to leave Mason and Theo immediately took him back home. The house was quiet; Liam’s dad was an ER doctor at Beacon Hills Memorial, expected to be there the next few days as they tended to the wounded coming out of the high school and helping families, friends and loved ones identify bodies. Liam’s mom was in Florida, visiting a sick sister for the week. She had already called to check-in on Liam, making him reiterate that he was fine about sixteen times before she was satisfied enough to hang up. Theo would never have dreamed about leaving Liam, let alone leaving him by himself in the house. The two started by sitting on opposite ends of the couch, Liam silent for hours as the grief overtook him. Eventually Theo convinced him he’d be more comfortable in bed, and might actually get some sleep, and that’s where the two of them lay now, swapping secrets about themselves to pass the time and keep their minds occupied. 

“Nah, but Eugene isn’t that bad. I actually think it’s kind of cute.” 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“I have been for about a year, but thanks for noticing.” 

Liam reached over, grabbing Theo’s hand with the caution of a bomb technician. 

“Tell me something else,” Theo whispered, his skin growing hot as Liam took his hand. 

Liam took a deep breath and covered his eyes with his free hand, wiping away dried tears and the cloud of sleep. 

“Okay, okay. I have a story. If you spend more time with my mom, you’re going to hear it anyway. She’s literally told everyone. I think she even brought it up to Mr. Kistler during parent-teacher conferences. Anyway, when I was like... 2 and a half... I had convinced myself that I had hated broccoli, even though I had never tried it. My mom finally got me to eat some and it turns out I loved it and was obsessed with it for the next year and a half. I even... I even had a birthday party that was broccoli themed.” He rushed through the last part, silently hoping Theo would focus on some other detail of the story. Theo immediately burst out laughing. 

“You had a broccoli-themed birthday party?! Oh, that’s good. That’s golden.” 

His deep laughter made Liam smile for the first time in hours as he rolled over to look at him. 

“I have pictures too,” he whispered, his eyes filled with mischief. 

“Show me NOW.” 

Liam got out of bed and walked down the hall to his parents’ bedroom, where a wall of photo albums sat. Every single one was labelled things like ‘Liam’s First Day of School,’ ‘Liam’s First Trip to Disneyland,’ ‘Liam’s Piano Recital.’ Being an only child made life easy to document. He quickly found the one entitled ‘Liam’s 3rd Birthday’ and headed back to his room. He already regretted mentioning it to Theo as he remembered the green cake, green t-shirt and the awful broccoli hat that his mom had somehow found and forced him to wear the entire party. 

The two laughed until there were tears in their eyes as they poured over the photo album. Theo’s particular favorite was of Liam scowling in his broccoli hat, sitting on the lap of a relative. He went back to that picture every few minutes just to get a good laugh. 

“Rebecca?” 

Liam nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard Allison’s voice. He was never going to get used to her just popping up out of nowhere. 

“ALLISON. How long have you been here?” Liam jumped out of his bed, Theo looking at him in surprise, his eyes wide. 

“Wait, Allison is here?” 

“Calm down, I just got here. I wanted to check on you. I didn’t... see anything...” 

“Well, we didn’t do anything, so...” 

“What does she want?” 

“Yeah, what do you want?” 

“If you’d let me speak instead of freaking out whenever you saw me, we’d get a lot further in life. That woman, holding you in that picture. How do you know her?” 

Liam looked down at the picture again, the one that Theo loved so much. 

“It’s my Aunt Becky. Why?” 

“You’re related to Rebecca Dunbar?” 

“Yeah, it’s my dad’s sister. Did you never wonder why we had the same last name?” 

“I thought your last name was Geyer. That’s what’s on your mailbox.” 

“Yeah, that’s my dad’s name, but it’s not mine. You know me and my dad aren’t related, right?” 

Allison rolled her eyes. Dr. Geyer was Black; Liam very much was not. 

“I thought you might have been adopted. So, Dr. Geyer is your step-dad but you still know your real dad and his family?” 

“Barely. I haven’t seen him since I was seven. He was an abusive asshole who got arrested for almost killing my mom. I heard he had been released from prison a few years ago, but I’ve never heard from him. Don’t need to; I have a dad. What’s that have to do with my Aunt Becky?” 

“Billy Dunbar is your dad? Rebecca always mentioned her brother, talked about how he had such bad anger issues. Rebecca—your aunt—was a very powerful medium. I remember my dad calling her in to help a few times when we were having a hard time finding a werewolf den. She had a connection to the spirit world unlike anyone else. No matter where we were, if we needed help from the spirits, he would get ahold of Rebecca Dunbar because she was the best. God, I even remember going to her funeral. I don’t remember you being there.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t... I wasn’t there.” 

“You weren’t where? Liam, what is happening?” 

Liam quickly relayed their conversation back to Theo, explaining about his dad, his Aunt Becky and their apparent connection to the spirit world. 

“So, you’re a medium. God, that makes a lot of sense.” 

“But why now? Allison said she has been wandering Beacon Hills for two years.” 

“I think... I think that was on me,” Allison whispered. “I spent so long trying to be seen, trying to be heard. I had given up on anyone finding me, had accepted that I would be left to wander Beacon Hills alone for eternity. That’s... that’s when you finally saw me. That night you realized you were in love with that one.” 

Theo’s face still sat in confusion; his eyebrows raised as he waited for Liam to relay the conversation back to him. 

“Uh, Allison thinks it was her. Thinks it wasn’t until she had given up on being found that I could see her. The night... you know, the night I first saw her. You were there.” His voice cracked. 

“Smooth. Didn’t he kind of profess his love for you earlier? You ever going to talk about it or just ignore it happened? Lay in bed together like two bros and everything is normal?” 

“We’re not... we're just... lying in the bed... together. You know what? Thank you, Allison, you’ve answered a lot of questions, but I think it’s time you go check on someone else. Bye now.” She rolled her eyes once more before she vanished, off to check on another member of the McCall pack. 

“We’re just in bed together? What did she say now?” 

Liam grimaced as he turned back towards the bed, Theo lying there with a shit-eating grin on his face. He was cute but, God, was he a pain in the ass. Liam’s expression softened and he sighed, finally slipping out of his shoes even though he had been home for hours. Theo followed suit, his sneakers falling to the floor with two loud thuds. Liam slowly crawled into bed and started to lie down next to Theo when he hesitated. Allison was right. Theo might have confessed his feelings in the heat of the moment, but he still did it. Liam needed to stop being so scared. He shifted and swung his leg over Theo’s body, resting himself onto his lap. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Shut up. I thought maybe we could pick up where we left off earlier.” 

Theo’s eyes lit up, a spark of playfulness glinting over them. He moved so he was sitting upright, grabbing the sheets on either side of him by the handful. His face was only a few inches away from Liam’s. His breath was jagged and uneven, his heart racing. 

“You want me to shut up? Why don’t you make me?” 

Liam glanced at his lips for only a split second before covering them with his own. Each kiss was deeper than the last, leaving both of them gasping for air. Theo ran his hands up the back of Liam’s shirt, his hands resting palm down in the middle of his back. Liam stopped, pulling his shirt over his head and onto the floor before grasping Theo’s face with both hands and kissing him again. Theo reached for the collar of his own shirt, pulling it off and tossing it on top of the heap of clothes slowly forming on the floor of Liam’s bedroom. He grabbed Liam underneath his thighs, shifting his hips so that Liam was on his back as he hovered over him. He kissed Liam on the mouth until neither of them could breathe, then worked his way downward, starting at his neck. He could feel Liam’s heart racing; it skipped every time Theo’s mouth moved to a different spot on his body. 

He kissed the middle of his chest and looked up to catch Liam’s eyes, the fire in them burning uncontrollably. He made his way down to Liam’s waist, his tongue thrashing against the sensitive skin just above his beltline. He hooked his fingers into the jersey material and pulled off the basketball shorts, leaving Liam in nothing more than a pair of red, plaid boxers. He grinned and pressed his lips to the inside of Liam’s thigh, his moans only making Theo more ravenous. His fingers slid into the legs of his boxers, brushing against Liam with the lightest of touch, making him shiver. He looked up at Liam again, watching closely for even the slightest sign that he wanted to stop. 

“I love you,” Liam whispered, his voice catching in his throat, his fingers loosening their grip in Theo’s hair. Theo took his hand out of Liam’s boxers as he slid his body back up so that his face was at Liam’s again. 

“Do you mean that? This isn't just... you know... you trying to get a piece of this?” Liam chuckled once. "Yeah, I mean it." Their lips met again, more gently this time, as Liam’s hands found their way to Theo’s belt, his fingers shaking as he tried to undo it. He eventually succeeded, tossing the belt to the floor with a satisfying clang. Theo already had his hands on his pants, fumbling with the zipper and button when Liam stopped him, placing his hands over his. 

“Let me do it.” 

Confidence growing, he got the jeans undone with ease, sliding the material over Theo’s hips, although they both struggled to get his feet out of them. Out of breath and laughing, Theo’s lower half fell off the mattress and towards the floor as his right foot stayed stuck inside the pants leg. Firmly gripping his jeans, he ripped them off, whipping them across the room where they slid down the wall before resting on the floor. Liam quickly pulled down his boxers, grabbing a handful of his ass to pull him back into bed. This was his first time seeing Theo completely naked and he was surprised by how it managed to take his breath away. 

“My turn,” Theo purred, his mouth already back to Liam’s stomach, his hands gripping the only material that was left on his body. He ripped off his underwear, practically tearing them in half with ferocity. He took Liam in his mouth and groaned, his tongue sliding up and down Liam, his hardness having already joined the party a long time ago. 

“Fuck,” Liam whispered, closing his eyes as he let himself become lost. His breathing became shallow and quickened with every touch from Theo. He could see his grey eyes in his mind, that mischievous smile on his face. His heart stopped for a brief instant when he remembered their encounter earlier in the locker room and he felt himself let go. 

“Shit!” he exclaimed, his eyes shooting open as he realized what happened. Theo laughed as he sat back up. His thumb grazed his lower lip, wiping away the remains of their short-lived excursion together. 

“It’s okay, dude, really,” he said calmly, laying back down next to Liam, his fingers tracing the lines on his stomach. “We have all the time in the world to try that again.” 

“You just had my dick in your mouth like two seconds ago. I don’t think you’re legally allowed to call me ‘dude’ right now.” 

Theo laughed, bringing his face up to Liam’s. 

“Fine. It’s okay, baby. We’ll try again later.” 

He grinned and kissed Liam gently, intertwining their limbs together as they both curled into the mattress. 

“Besides, you need sleep.” He pulled the dark comforter that was at their feet over them, feeling Liam’s body relax for maybe the first time all day. They sat there like that for a long time, not saying a word, just enjoying the quiet and memorizing each other’s faces. Eventually Liam lost the battle with sleep, his eyelids drooping and curling over eyes like a heavy blanket. The last thing he saw was Theo’s face, calm and innocent as he stared lovingly at Liam. For the first time in weeks, Liam slept. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have a nightmare. For the first time in weeks, he dreamed only of good things as he lay in the arms of Theo Raeken.


	27. Chapter 27

Isaac Lahey was destined for this job. Sitting in the back of a surveillance van, he spoke rapid French through a headset, his eyes darting over different closed-circuit TV screens all at once. It had been a long month of searching; a long month of following clues that lead nowhere and reaching dead end after dead end. He had been in Algeria with Cameron, hunting down a rogue Djinn, when they got the call about Derek Hale’s disappearance. 

It had taken Isaac a long time, and a lot of help from Chris Argent, to convince the French Men of Letters that Derek Hale wasn’t a threat to Beacon Hills. He had been on the radar of the hunters for years, ever since the murder of Paige Krasikeva that ignited the power of the Nemeton, and the French weren’t convinced that he wasn’t the problem in Beacon Hills. Isaac didn’t tell them that they may have been right, that the Hales were seemingly the causes of all the problems in his hometown; he was trying to save his friend, not get him killed quicker. He knew immediately that he had to be involved with finding him and had Cameron convince his father to let them get involved. 

Armand Beachard did better than let them get involved, he let Isaac become the head of the task force in charge of finding Derek, giving him free reign over everything the Men of Letters had to offer. Isaac knew it was a lot, knew Armand was taking a chance in letting him run an investigation, and he was grateful. He started off in the obvious places, tracking down Kate Argent and Peter Hale. It always seemed that every problem Derek ever had could be traced back to those two. He was surprised to find them both innocent and then was dealt the task of having to start from scratch, already a week into Derek being gone. 

He hadn’t suspected the British Men of Letters until the death of Mary Winchester. The Brits were very meticulous at keeping track of their agents; if Mary had been in a dangerous situation-- which, any time Peter Hale was involved could be considered a dangerous situation-- they would have had her removed immediately. Letting her stay, knowing the French were going to close in on Peter any day now, that was an intentional move. It hadn’t taken Isaac long to piece everything together: the British needed a reason to take control of Beacon Hills, the death of Mary allowed them to take control, they could then initiate their plan of eliminating all supernatural life from the town without a fight from the Winchesters or Scott McCall and his pack. 

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Ripping his eyes away from the screen, he turned to look at Celestine Beachard, sister to Cameron and his second in command on the task force. He had wanted Cameron but the Men of Letters wouldn’t allow it; they needed Cameron to head the task force headed to Beacon Hills. If he couldn’t have his best friend to help him, the next best choice was his twin sister. She quickly signed the words for ‘airplane’ and ‘take-off.’ Celestine had been deaf since she was a toddler, an accidental run-in with a banshee leaving the fragile bones in her ears completely shattered. She was lucky she had survived; their older sister, Mathilde, hadn’t. 

Ketch and Derek had just taken off from Beacon Hills, meaning the French task force had over half a day before they would return to the compound. Isaac nodded and relayed the message to the rest of his team to finish up the surveillance equipment they were setting up. They would head back to the French headquarters, getting in what sleep they could before Ketch and Derek made it to St. Jean-de-Luz. Ketch had a personal bunker just outside of the city, one he didn’t realize the French knew he had. 

Headquarters was located in Bordeaux, France, only a little under two hours from Ketch’s bunker. Celestine signed that she wanted to drive and Isaac laughed; no way was he letting her drive the van that was entrusted to him from her father. He made the sign for ‘you wish’ quickly, realizing immediately that he made a mistake from the look on Celestine’s face. 

“Oh, God, what? What did I say?” 

“You told her you were hungry,” another member of the group muttered as he walked by. 

“I mean, it wasn’t a lie!” Isaac shouted, moving towards the driver’s door to get them on the road. If they timed everything out correctly, they’d be able to get about six hours of sleep. The thought of being in bed was almost too exciting for Isaac. He let his instincts take over; he had memorized every inch of the drive from St. Jean-de-Luz to Bordeaux and back. If everything happened according to plan, by this time tomorrow, Derek Hale would be in the hands of the French Men of Letters and, hopefully, Arthur Ketch would be dead. 

“You know she... what’s the American phrase? She bats for the other team?” 

Henri, the same task force member who had noticed Isaac’s sign language mix up earlier, was sitting in the passenger seat as they drove back. 

“She... what?” 

“Is that right? Bats for the other team? She likes girls?” 

Isaac’s nose turned up in confusion. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Did you think her and Bernard were just friends?” 

Isaac checked his rearview mirror to see Celestine huddled close to a member of his task force he had seen a hundred times and never thought twice about. Codi Bernard had caramel skin and black hair that she tied in a knot on the top of her head; the physical opposite of Celestine, with her white-blonde hair, light blue eyes and nearly translucent skin. Their hands signing too fast for Isaac to keep up, Celestine stopped, smiled and snuck a kiss onto Codi’s cheek. It was obvious she thought Isaac was busy driving and not spying on them through the rearview mirror. He blushed and focused his eyes back on the road. 

“Yeah... yeah, I knew that. Of course. Didn’t you?” 

Henri chuckled and scoffed at Isaac, his eyebrows raising as he smirked. He simply nodded before closing his eyes and leaning into the seat, trying to get a head start on sleep.


	28. Chapter 28

Liam woke up still in the arms of Theo, his breath warm on the back of Liam’s head. He ran his fingers up and down Theo’s forearm, thinking about how he could stay in bed forever. He didn’t remember the last time he had gotten that much sleep. Actually, he didn’t remember the last time he had slept at all. Unfortunately, his bladder wasn’t going to let the fantasy of staying in bed all day happen. He slowly lifted Theo’s arm off of him, gently setting it onto the bed where he just lay. Theo breathed in deeply and Liam was sure he had woken him, but his breathing soon went back to the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. As quietly as he could, he grabbed a pair of boxers out of his dresser; he was sure his dad was still at the hospital, but wasn’t going to take the risk. Gently shutting the door behind him, he blindly walked to the bathroom down the hall, his hands rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes. He peeked at the clock on the wall, surprised that it was well past 9 AM. A little worried that something was wrong, he quickly made his way back to the bedroom to find his phone, hoping there weren’t any urgent messages waiting for him. 

Only one message from Scott sat unread, a brief question of emotional status of the Beta wolf, a reminder that the group would be meeting at noon at the Stilinski house and a more urgent asking if he had seen Theo; apparently no one had heard from him the night before. Liam walked out of his bedroom again, this time making his way down the stairs to find something for breakfast. 

“Uh, yeah, I heard from him,” Liam mumbled and grinned, quickly letting Scott know he was okay, Theo was with him, and the two would be there at noon. 

“I honestly thought you were never going to figure it out.” 

Liam halted in his tracks. The voice appearing out of silence was startling, but that wasn’t what stopped him. The voice didn’t belong to Allison. He turned slowly, his heart practically beating out of his chest. 

“Hi Liam.” 

Mason’s face was soft, a smile spreading across it. Liam felt tears in his eyes and he wished more than anything that he could take his best friend in for a hug. His body was shaking at the sight of him and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost it. 

“Mason. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.” The tears were freely streaming down his face. His voice caught in his throat and his words started to become more and more shaky. “I should have been there. I should have never left you. It’s all my fault.” He was unable to stand at this point, his body sliding down the wall before reaching the cold wood floor of the dining room. He tried to keep his cries quiet but the scream of grief and regret escaped his chest like the howl of wind during an April thunderstorm. He heard Theo scream his name from upstairs, the pounding of his feet loud as they made their way out of his bedroom and down the stairs, not once stopping. 

“Liam! Are you okay? What’s wrong? Baby, talk to me.” 

“Mason....” 

Theo’s body relaxed as he sat on the floor next to Liam, a slight grimace coming over his face as his bare skin hit the cool floor. He wrapped his arm around Liam, pressing a kiss onto his bare shoulder. 

“It’ll get easier. I know it’s hard, losing your best friend, but you have a whole group   
of friends that are here for you. I’m here for you.” 

Liam had never heard Theo be so compassionate. He was usually the one making the threats, not the one to console anyone afterwards. He almost felt bad for what he had to say next. 

“No, Mason... he’s here.” 

Theo’s eyes started to squint and his lips pursed as he took a breath. 

“Mason. He’s here? Now?” 

Liam nodded and pointed at Mason, who was standing with eyebrows raised, a smart remark just on the tip of his tongue. Theo nodded, tongue in cheek as he waved towards Mason. 

“Hi, Mason. I’m going to just... you know...” he stood and pointed towards the staircase, quickly slipping around the corner and up the stairs. 

“And hellooooo, Theodore.” Mason gave a laugh that made Liam start to chuckle, as he wiped his face with the back of his arm, wishing now that he had grabbed a shirt, too. 

“So, you two, huh?” 

“Yeah,” mumbled Liam, giving off a chuckle of surprise. “Us two. Who knew?” 

“Literally everyone. You were the last absolute last to know.” 

“Really?!” Liam’s eyebrows shot up as he rested his hand on the floor, his arm supporting his body as he fell forward in surprise. 

“I think Lydia and I figured it out at the same time. Corey saw it once we pointed it out to him. Don’t let Scott skip out on owing Stiles that twenty bucks. In fact, who said ‘I love you’ first? Malia had Theo, Corey put ten bucks on you and I’d like to know who won that one.” 

“You were betting on us?!” 

“It was easy money. Now, come on, the ‘I love yous,’ who went first?” 

“I’m not telling you that!” 

“It was Theo wasn’t it? I knew you would be too chicken shit to do it first. I told Corey he’d be losing his money but he never listens to me!” 

“I mean, it was Theo, but I’m not a chicken shit! I had no idea!” 

“He was flirting with you for like... a YEAR!” 

“WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?!” 

“Tell you what?” 

Theo had made his way down the stairs, this time fully clothed. The smirk on his face was annoyingly cute as Liam scowled, still furious his friends decided to bet on his relationships rather than give him a small hint that Theo was into him. 

“All of our friends were betting on when we’d get together.” Both of Liam’s hands were in the air, his eyes wide as he exuded fury. 

“No shit? Who won?” 

Mason immediately burst out laughing, leaving Liam to fume by himself. He shot up to a standing position, moving over to Theo so he was only about a foot away from where he stood at the foot of the stairs. 

“Who won?! That’s all you have to say?! You were too much of a chicken to ask me out for a YEAR and then you act like our friends betting on us is completely normal and... IS THAT MY SHIRT?” 

A devilish grin on his face, Theo pulled at the material of the shirt he was wearing, glancing down as he tried to read what it said upside-down. 

“Beacon... Hills... Lacrosse... oh, yeah, that’s definitely not mine. You would hate to see me try to play lacrosse. Would not be pretty. Do you want me to take it off?” 

“NO!” Liam screamed, as Mason excitedly shouted ‘YES!’ in unison. Still fuming, Liam pushed his way around Theo, stomping up the stairs like a four-year-old who had just gotten his favorite toy taken away. The door to his bedroom slammed shut and Theo started to laugh out loud. 

It was only a few minutes before Liam was back downstairs, his forehead wrinkled as his eyes stayed in a permanent scowl. He was holding the light blue shirt that Stiles had let Theo borrow the day before. 

“You didn’t even wear your own shirt here so I had nothing to steal back.” He threw the shirt at Theo’s face, which never swayed from the smirk he had on since he realized Mason had seen him completely naked. 

“Well then,” Theo murmured as he reached for Liam, wrapping arms around his shoulders while leaning into his face, letting his lips graze Liam’s with only the slightest touch. “We will have to change that, won’t we?” Liam stared at Theo’s lips, still furious, before looking him in the eyes and letting out a sigh, rolling his eyes at how easily he gave up. 

“I still don’t forgive you for waiting so long to ask me out.” He planted a kiss on Theo’s lips and worked his way out of his arms, heading towards the kitchen to finally get the breakfast that he had been trying to get for a half hour now. 

“Liam, I... I don’t want to bring you down or interrupt your... important... toast making, but I need to tell you why I’m here.” 

Liam stopped digging in the bag of bread and looked at Mason, his eyes filled with concern. 

“What do you mean? You’re not staying?” 

“No, Liam. I... I want to move on. I need to. But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” Theo had walked into the kitchen at this point, sensing the change in mood from Liam. 

“What is it? What’s Mason saying?” 

“None of this was your fault. I need you to know that.” 

“But if I hadn’t left, if I had stayed with you...” 

“I would have died anyway. And you might have, too. Corey had me cloaked when I was shot. There was absolutely nothing anyone could have done. I need you to know that Liam, please.” 

“But you’re only involved in this because of me.” 

“It’s Beacon Hills, Liam. I would have gotten involved somehow.” 

Liam stood in silence, taking in everything Mason had said. His next words were barely a whisper. 

“What am I supposed to do without you? You’re my Stiles.” 

Mason smiled, his eyes filling with the warmth and sadness at the same time. 

“You’re going to be okay, Liam. You have an entire group of friends—a pack—who are going to love you and protect you no matter what. When I first met you, you were just this scared kid with anger issues. You didn’t belong to anyone. It’s different now, Liam, I hope you can see that. Plus... let’s not lie... your new boyfriend is a total smoke show.” 

Liam chuckled once, taking a glance at Theo who was trying to hide the confusion in his face. He desperately wanted to know what was going on but could sense that Mason and Liam needed their time together without him butting in. 

“I mean, the abs, damn.” 

“Ok, stop, he might hear you. I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“Now I really need to know what’s going on.” 

“Wait until I leave, I don’t think I can handle him flirting with me as I try to say good-bye.” 

Mason threw an invisible wink at Theo. Liam nodded and gave one light laugh, his eyes filling with tears as he reached towards Mason. He knew he wouldn’t be able to feel his touch but he just wanted the sense of being close to him one last time. Mason put his hand over Liam’s. 

“I love you, Liam. Always remember that. Please tell Corey I love him, too, and that none of this is his fault either. He’s going to be beating himself up for a while. Help him.” 

He let go of Liam and took a step back, slowly disappearing from view. 

“Mason! Please! Mason... come back.” Liam’s voice trailed off as he started to cry for the second time that morning, his hand gripping the kitchen counter like it was the only thing holding him up. Theo took him in his arms, standing in silence as the tears racked through Liam’s body. Breakfast was forgotten for the day as the two stood in the kitchen, one consoling the other as they handled the loss of Mason together for the second time in only a few short hours.


	29. Chapter 29

The French Men of Letters had had their eyes on the British for a while now. The antics of Arthur Ketch, Toni Bevell and Dr. Gillian Hess against the Winchester brothers hadn’t gone unnoticed in the world of the supernatural hunters. They had figured out about a week ago that Arthur Ketch had Derek Hale hidden in a cabin in the Chugach National Forest. Even with the resources and manpower available to a national organization, a week of searching in the dense forest had yet to lead to a rescue. Knowing they needed a man on the inside, they sent in a double agent to the Brits, someone they would only refer to as Agent H. While one task force was busy on the rescue mission of Derek, there was another here in Beacon Hills, trying to clean up the mess that the British had created. Cameron, however, was the only French agent in the McCall house, having called a meeting with the werewolf pack and the Winchester brothers to fill them in on what was happening in France. 

“I received word earlier this morning that Arthur Ketch had left Beacon Hills shortly after 0500 hours. The plane is a private one belonging to the British Men of Letters and had made its way to California by way of Anchorage, Alaska. There they picked up one passenger—your friend, Derek Hale. We have an agent on the plane with Ketch, who is going to let us know when they land in France. I have a task force setup in St. Jean-de-Luz, where Ketch has a secret bunker that is, sadly for him, no longer a secret. What was supposed to be a fairly quick grab and go scenario, though, is now slightly more complicated. I’ve been told Ketch was bitten.” 

Scott’s eyes whipped around his group in confusion. No one had mentioned biting Ketch. His eyes scanned Malia, who made a face in disgust. 

“You really think I would bite him without killing him?” 

Scott then noticed Liam hunkered down in his chair, refusing to make eye contact with the Alpha. 

“Liam. What did you do?” 

Liam went on to explain in a rush that he was being shot at and biting Ketch seemed like the best plan of action. He hadn’t thought about the werewolf turn that could maybe come from the bite. 

“He was going to shoot Theo,” he mumbled quietly, the aforementioned boy kissing the side of Liam’s forehead as he whispered something so quietly into his ear that even the supernatural in the group couldn’t hear. Liam’s face turned bright red and Scott knew that he didn’t want to know what had been said between the two. 

“It’s... it’s ok, Liam. Right?” Scott glanced at Cameron, hoping his Beta hadn’t made a mistake that would cost the group the return of Derek. 

“No matter. My team is prepared to take Arthur Ketch whether he be human or partially werewolf. Ketch will be captured. Dead or alive.” 

“Where’s Parrish?” 

The entire group fell in a hush. Lydia was the first one to bring up Parrish and, admittedly, the only person who had thought about him in the chaos of everything else going on. They knew he had been part of the Men of Letter’s plan in their faux attempt at capturing The Butcher, but everyone had assumed the deputy was with the rest of the Beacon Hills Police Department, cleaning up the mess that the British had created. Sheriff Stilinski hadn’t noted Parrish’s absence but everything in the town had been turned completely upside-down in 24 hours that no one was surprised someone had slipped through the cracks. 

“Unfortunately, Jordan Parrish is also on the flight from Beacon Hills to France.” 

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears and Stiles grabbed her in a hug. If she knew nothing else, though, it was Parrish’s ability to survive. He had seen much worse than the likes of Arthur Ketch. 

“I’m afraid someone else was captured, too. The angel, Castiel.” 

Dean’s face blanched. He hadn’t heard from Castiel since the night before, but radio silence from the angel wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sam’s facial expressions were clearer in their distress. He knew Castiel could defend himself from the Men of Letters with ease, but he knew the fact he had been captured right under their noses was going to kill his brother. Dean stood up suddenly then, leaving the room with a slam of the door which caused everyone to jump in their seats. 

“Dean! Dean!” 

Sam quickly followed his brother out of the room and onto the front lawn. He wasn’t sure what Dean’s plan was, but they couldn’t do anything to help Castiel, Derek or Parrish until their plane had landed. 

“I’m going to get Cas.” 

“Do you plan on learning to fly? Come on, Dean. We can’t do anything until they get to France. Come back inside and we’ll come up with a plan.” 

“Why?! Every plan we’ve come up with so far has been a fucking failure. There are kids dead, Sammy. Castiel is gone. We invited the British in to help only for them to betray us—again. No, I’m done with plans. I’m going to get Cas.” 

“You’re going to get yourself killed, Dean!” 

“IT DOESN’T MATTER! If anything happens to him, I’m going to wish I was dead, anyway.” 

Sam was silent as he stared at his brother. Eight years of being friends with Cas and Dean had never even so much as smiled at the guy. He walked in a huff to his car, the black Impala covered in dust but undamaged after the events of the past day. He drove off without so much as another word, leaving Sam to stand alone in the middle of the McCall’s front yard.


	30. Chapter 30

For the first time in almost two years, Isaac had dreamed of Allison. Her dark hair had overtaken his thoughts, her brown eyes remaining on the back of his eyelids as he heard the sound of an alarm going off in the real world. He desperately tried to stay in the dream, memorizing the smile on Allison’s face, but the high-pitched scream was too much for him to sleep through. Until next time, he thought, slowly opening his eyes to a red glow over taking his room. He sat bolt upright then as he remembered where he was and what the alarm must mean. Ketch and Derek were only a few hours of France now and they had to get on the road if they were to beat them back to the compound in St. Jean-de-Luz. 

He quickly got out of bed, threw on some tactical gear and headed to the room next to him. He could still hear the low hum of Celestine’s alarm, which was specially designed to make her bed vibrate to wake her. He pressed the button outside of her door, which allowed for a small light to turn on inside, letting her know someone wanted to come in. He saw shadows underneath the door and within a second Celestine had whipped the entire door open. She was ready to go, just as excited for the task at hand as Isaac was. 

“You ready?” she signed, a grin spreading over her face. 

“Always,” Isaac signed back. She was so much like Cameron that sometimes he forgot how much he missed his best friend since he had Celestine to supplement. Hopefully Cameron would be back from the States soon and the three of them would be reunited once more. He hadn’t heard any updates from the task force in the States, only that the British Men of Letters had attacked Beacon Hills and Arthur Ketch escaped. He knew that meant someone had died, they were just waiting to fill everyone in when the dust settled. Over the years in working for the French Men of Letters, he had learned that no news was almost always bad news. If his task force was going to fight Ketch, they didn’t want them distracted with news of what was happening in California. 

The two of them headed towards the garage where a parade of utility vans were lined up, each of them with a small task force standing outside. Isaac quickly rallied his team together and explained what he did know: Ketch would be back to St. Jean-de-Luz in a little over two hours. He had at least three prisoners in tow, including a werewolf, a Hellhound and an angel. All three of the prisoners were known to be alive but everyone should prepare for the British Men of Letters to panic and attempt to destroy any of them. The main goal was to bring them all back to headquarters, alive and preferably unharmed. The second most important goal was that Arthur Ketch be captured, either dead or alive. He went over the positions of each task force, strategically placing them throughout the compound and the surrounding areas. He had a surveillance team ready and another team who would be waiting from a distance to find information on any unknown supernatural creatures that may arrive. Although they were only told of the three prisoners on board, anything was possible. If Ketch had some kind of secret weapon he was hiding, the team wanted to be ready to figure out what it was and how to stop it. 

“All right, crew, let’s get on the road!” 

The entire team moved in silence as they filed into the vans one by one, filling six vans in total. The caravan took out into the dark French night, each group quiet as they awaited the fate they were going to find in St. Jean-de-Luz.


	31. Chapter 31

Dean had only made it about five miles down the road when he turned around. Sam was right. If Castiel was on a plane to France, there wasn’t a whole lot Dean was going to be able to do to help from the ground in California. He made his way back to the McCall house, silently entering the dining room to a sea of surprised faces. 

“So, what’s the plan?” 

The group looked at each other, no one wanting to admit to Dean that there was no plan. It was out of their hands now and they were simply going to wait until the French had rescued Derek, Parrish and Castiel before they decided on anything else. There wasn’t anything they could really do from Beacon Hills. Sam, of course, was the one to break the silence. 

“Sleep, Dean. Maybe get some dinner. We can’t do anything from here so we’re going to take care of ourselves. Get ready for when we are needed.” 

“You’re going to just... wait here. I can’t... Sammy. I can’t let anything happen to Castiel.” He turned to look at Cameron. “Frenchie, please tell me there’s something I can do to help.” Cameron’s face was grim, both from being referred to as ‘Frenchie’ but also because he had nothing in mind for Dean to do. If Ketch’s secret bunker had been in Texas instead of France, the entire night would be going differently. But with Ketch and his prisoners 5600 miles away on the ground—another five to seven miles tacked on if they were still on the plane—there wasn’t a whole lot they could do, unless one of them had the ability to fly and just hadn’t told anyone yet. An idea came to mind, though, as he fished his phone out of his pocket to send a message. 

“I don’t have anything for you to do, but would it help if I could let you speak with the angel?” 

Stiles exploded then, yelling at Cameron about how he hadn’t seen Derek in weeks, was terrified that he had already been killed but hadn’t gotten the same offer to speak with his captured loved one. Scott grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and took him into the kitchen, calmly explaining that they didn’t have the resources to deal with everyone’s outbursts at the same time. A quiet ‘ding’ came from Cameron’s phone and he quickly read the message before turning back to Dean. 

“My agent on the plane thinks he can get back to where Castiel is being held. You wouldn’t have very long, so, plan on what you want to say now.” 

Dean nodded and Cameron typed a message back to his agent. The room was silent with anticipation, the only sound coming from the gentle swish as Theo ran his fingers across Liam’s shoulder. Without a warning, the phone rang, making everyone jump. Cameron immediately handed the phone to Dean, not wanting to waste any of the precious time that the Winchester was being given. 

“Cas? Cas, are you there?” 

“Dean.” 

The single word made the tension in Dean’s shoulders fade, his heart beating again regularly for the first time in hours. On the plane, Castiel’s demeanor changed as well. His body relaxed as he gripped tightly to the phone that he had been handed, perhaps hoping that if he used enough force, he’d be able to push Dean out of the airways into the plane with him. 

“Cas, buddy, it’s good to hear your voice. I know we don’t have much time. Just know that we’re coming for you, okay? We know who has you and where you’re headed. I’ll be there,” his eyes caught Sam’s as he changed his phrasing. “We’ll be there.” 

Castiel’s eyes closed as he took in every word from Dean’s mouth. He never had a doubt in his mind that the Winchesters would be coming after him, but it was a relief to hear the reassurance. 

“Dean, be careful.” 

“You too, Cas.” The receiver clicked as Dean hung up and Castiel handed the phone back to the man. He nodded and headed back out to the main cabin, his eyes glancing once at Derek and Parrish before he was back behind the curtain. 

Back in Beacon Hills, the room had grown silent again. Being able to speak to his friend had calmed Dean down, the reassurance of his voice giving him the headspace to think clearly about what they were going to do. If he couldn’t help in the capture of Ketch and the rescue of Cas, the least he could do was be in France to reunite with his friend once he was safe and sound. 

“So, anybody have some sky miles they want to use up? We’re going to France.” 

“Dean, we don’t have the money to go to France. Can’t you just wait for Castiel to be rescued and then he can... I don’t know... teleport himself here?” 

“No, Sammy. I can’t. I told him I would be there and I don’t plan on breaking that promise.” 

Lydia was the first one to speak up, her strawberry blonde hair bright against the black shirt she had been wearing. Her eyes were framed by dark circles; the lack of sleep and stress of the last few weeks finally catching up with the banshee. 

“If you’re going to France, I’m going too. I want to be there for Parrish. Besides, I think I’m the only one in this room with a trust fund, so, if I’m paying, I’m joining.” Dean had never been happier to hear that someone was a trust fund baby. 

“If Lydia is going, I’m going.” Stiles had reappeared from the kitchen with Scott, who nodded along with his friend’s words. “Me too.” 

Lydia’s eyes rolled and she sighed. “We’re all going. We’re not going to leave anyone behind. Hope everyone has their passports.” The room was still silent but the lights in everyone’s eyes had suddenly become bright at the prospect of heading to France to find their friends. 

“If that’s the case,” Sam said, his words heavy as he started to think of all the planning they were going to have to do, “we better get started.” 

Cameron explained that the French had a plane they had brought to the States, but wouldn’t be able to take everyone with him. It was already a small plane and barely had enough fuel space to make the international trip, let alone with adding the weight of a dozen more people. He agreed to take Sam and Dean with him, leaving the others to fly commercial. Sam was hesitant to use the resources from the French Men of Letters and be in any kind of debt to the organization. He had already made the same mistakes with the British. Cameron made a call to his father, who, in turn, made several calls to the people he knew at Charles de Gaulle. Within only a few hours, tickets had been secured for each of them and passports were in the process of being made-- with the help of a document forger-- for Theo and Malia, the two were-coyotes being the only ones who didn’t already have one. With almost twenty-four hours still remaining before their take-off from LAX, the group retired for the night, everyone headed home to pack and sleep before their long journey to France.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic violence  
> Major character death

Ketch’s bunker was quiet and dark when the French Men of Letters task force arrived. Isaac knew they were going to beat out Ketch’s flight but still worried that somehow, he would slip from their grasp. It was only about twenty minutes later, though, that a white van pulled into the lot and Isaac felt a breath escape him that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

“It’s go-time,” he mumbled, realizing that he meant to keep the words in his head but accidentally uttering them out loud. He slipped out of the van, moving silently to the back where he was handed a mirage of weapons, to deal with any human or supernatural enemies. He gestured for his group to follow him, the pack moving in silence towards the back of the bunker. Isaac pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the video feed: Ketch and the few British Men of Letters he had with him were unloading cages from the back of the van. He recognized the hunched over figure of Derek Hale and knew the cage that was still smoldering had to be the Hellhound. The angel was much more mundane than Isaac was expecting, a tattered trench coat adorning the celestial being, whose eyes screamed ‘murder’ from inside the cage he was in. Isaac wasn’t sure how Ketch had managed to capture an angel and secure him so easily. The Brits finished unloading their van, a variety of weapons piling out next, but Isaac was relieved that no more cages were in the mix of things. As far as he knew, there wouldn’t be any supernatural surprises waiting for them. 

He signaled another group of the task force, the red laser on his gun flashing three quick times to indicate he was ready. There was movement on the roof as the group moved out, their footsteps silent as they quickly spread out across the entire top of the building. It was their job to make sure no one made it out of that bunker that they didn’t want to make it out. Isaac circled his group to the back, a member breaking off and silently taking out the driver of the van. He quickly took his place, pulling the van away from the building, the British having no idea as they shut the door behind the van. Isaac saw two flashes of a beam: a signal from the group on the far end of the bunker. They were in place and secure as well. 

“Well,” Isaac whispered, both to the group he was with and into his headset, “if we don’t make it out alive, just know, I didn’t really like any of you.” He heard someone chuckle and a grin broke out on his face as he raised his hand, his fist quickly dropping, the signal to go ahead. One door slammed after another as the French entered Ketch’s bunker, a hail of gunfire quickly following. But Ketch and his men were outmanned 4-to-1, and it wasn’t long before the only one left alive was Arthur Ketch, standing with his hands in the air in the middle of a circle of the French. 

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?” 

“I mean, I was kind of hoping it was.” 

Ketch flashed a devilish grin before his eyes went yellow, a roar escaping him as he slashed out at the closest French agent he could find. He took out one, two, three, four agents before disappearing, his reflexes lightning fast and his feet quicker than Isaac remembered. Clearly, the werewolf venom had made its way throughout his body. Although the effects wouldn’t last long, Isaac had no idea exactly when he had been bitten and couldn’t accurately give a timeline as to how long Ketch would have his extra abilities. They had to act quickly. He motioned for part of his team to check on Derek, Castiel and Parrish, as he took the rest of his team after Ketch. His own eyes turned yellow as he scanned the room, checking for the extra heat signature that Ketch’s body would have over it. Nothing. The bunker was only so big and Isaac didn’t understand how Ketch could have disappeared so easily. He closed his eyes and tried to isolate the sound of his heartbeat, but there were too many others in the room, including a certain Hellhound whose heart was beating faster than was definitely humanly possible. 

A hand reached from behind, gripping Isaac tightly by the neck as claws dug into skin. Isaac started to choke and dropped his gun, quickly hearing the same sounds come from the agents around him as Ketch told them all to drop their weapons. 

“Another Beacon Hills werewolf. You have no idea how tired I am of Beacon Hills werewolves. I’m going to start with you and work my way through all of them, dragging your bodies to that twat, Scott McCall, before I kill him, too.” 

A growl escaped Isaac, the most he could muster with Ketch’s hand wrapped around his throat. Ketch slammed his body into the ground, the concrete cracking under the weight of the werewolf. Isaac felt at least one of his vertebrae shatter. Even if he managed to get away, bones took a lot longer to heal than any soft tissue damage. He wasn’t going to be in any kind of condition to fight back. His eyes raced across his team members, begging them to pick up their weapons and take Ketch out. Every single one of them knew the mission; every single one of them knew that capturing Ketch was more important than keeping Isaac alive. Ketch only grinned as he went after each of them, the French fighting their hardest but still underprepared. They knew there was a chance that Arthur Ketch would be part-werewolf, but they underestimated how powerful he was as a human. 

Isaac only saw her in his peripherals, nothing more than a flash of blonde hair coming out of the darkness. She caught Ketch by surprise, his yellow eyes opening wide as he let go of the head of one of the French agents. She pulled a dagger from her belt, stabbing Ketch in the chest, her knife piercing underneath his breast plate, angling its way up towards his heart. He gasped but kept going, grabbing onto Celestine by her long hair, jerking her head back. She started to reach up and Isaac thought she was going for Ketch’s hands but instead her hand reached into the air, almost like she was hailing a cab. It all clicked with Isaac as he fumbled for the knife in his belt, throwing it towards Celestine, who caught it by the blade but quickly turned it around, blood streaming from her hand as she slashed into Ketch’s throat. He immediately let go of her hair, his hands grasping at his exposed windpipes. He finally fell to the ground. Celestine gripped the handle of the knife more firmly, blood flowing freely from her hand down the handle, leaning over Ketch’s body with poison in her eyes. She stabbed the knife into his chest again, blood starting to soak into the ends of her hair, turning the white-blonde strands into a deep red. Isaac grimaced at the squelching, something he never got used to when working with the French. In only a few minutes, Celestine had Ketch’s heart in her hand, holding it high over her head as her body relaxed, falling onto the concrete next to Ketch’s now lifeless body. 

Isaac felt his body being lifted as two French agents ran towards him, picking him up underneath his arms and dragging him outside, his legs hanging limp from the broken spine. They placed him into the van and a member of the medical team started working on him, even under his insistence that he would be fine and there were other people to worry about. Celestine joined him soon after, signing furiously as the medical team attempted to wrap the wounds on her hands without any cooperation from her. Isaac missed a lot of it, but one word he did manage to catch was ‘werewolf.’ 

“Wait, how is Derek? Derek Hale?” 

“Hi, Isaac.” 

At the mention of his name, Derek appeared, his voice scratchy and low. Unable to sit up himself, he heard Derek groan as he made his way into the back of the van, his face appearing in front of Isaac’s within a few minutes. Isaac couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his friend. He looked like shit, but he was alive. Derek smiled and Isaac noticed one of his teeth on the bottom row was missing. 

“You look like shit, Lahey.” 

“I was just about to say the same thing about you.” He laughed and immediately regretted the decision, a sharp pain coursing up his body, which was already starting to heal, but not fast enough. 

“My phone, get my phone,” Isaac pointed to a few of his belongings which were stacked up next to the gurney he was on, one of them being his cell phone. “I think if I didn’t have you call McCall and Stiles right away, they’d likely kill me on sight.” 

Derek grinned as he picked the phone up, his hands shaking from weakness. He had no idea what time it was in Beacon Hills. He actually didn’t know where exactly he was, only knew it was somewhere in France. The French Men of Letters had tried to explain as much as they could, but the medical team was quick to whisk Derek away before he could get the full explanation. He scrolled through Isaac’s contact list, smiling at the familiar names that passed by. Argent, Chris. Martin, Lydia. McCall, Scott. Finally, Stilinski, Stiles. He pressed the CALL button and put the phone to his ear, wishing with every fiber of his being that Stiles would pick up the phone. 

“Isaac?! Is everything ok? It’s 7 AM. Did something happen? Is Derek ok?” 

“I’m fine, Stiles.” 

The silence was deafening on the other end of the phone and Derek heard it clatter to the ground as it was dropped. There was some shuffling and a lot of hushed words, nothing that Derek was able to make out, before the phone was picked up again. 

“Derek? Is that... is that really you?” 

“Yes, Stiles. It’s really me. They did it. They found me. Ketch is dead.” 

He heard a gasp escape Stiles and could practically hear his heart racing through the phone. 

“Don’t... don’t go anywhere. Don’t you move. I’ll be there tomorrow.” 

Derek laughed; he was barely capable of walking from the bunker to the van he was in, he didn’t think he’d be going anywhere anytime soon. 

“I won’t. I won’t go anywhere, Stiles.” 

The phone was passed around to Scott, Lydia and Malia, each asking the same questions before quickly passing the phone on to the next. Scott quickly filled him in on their flight plans, never letting his confidence waiver that they would be there soon to get their friend. In a normal circumstance, Derek would have argued back, saying it wasn’t necessary for everyone to fly to France when all he wanted was to be home in Beacon Hills. After a month of running, a month of torture, he was beyond ready to see their faces. The brown eyes of Stiles flashed in his mind; the one thing that had kept him sane during the whole month. They ended the call and Derek handed the phone back to Isaac, embarrassed that he didn’t give the former Beacon Hills resident a chance to speak to his friends. Isaac brushed it off, insisting he’d be speaking to them again once they were back at headquarters and could properly fill everyone in on what had happened at the bunker. 

The French gathered their team members, both dead and alive, and worked on filling their vans. Another task force was assigned clean up duty and would be arriving at any minute to take care of the situation here in St. Jean-de-Luz. For now, Isaac and his team could go back. He felt a hand on his and looked up to see Celestine, a smile on her eyes as she gestured hello. The van doors closed and started their journey back to Bordeaux. If Isaac had his way, he would never be driving on these same roads ever again.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally getting some Sterek, babyyyy

The anticipation was too much. Stiles could feel his heart racing. This was it. They were finally going to bring Derek home. As the car pulled into the lot outside of the French Men of Letters’ headquarters, his eyes started scanning the entire property, looking for that familiar walk, the familiar dark hair, the beard, the scowl. The door opened to the estate and his heart skipped a beat. He looked like shit but there he was: Derek Hale. His green eyes were sunken in and, even though scowl on his face wasn’t anything new, the paleness of it was. His normally full beard had patches and he had dropped about thirty pounds. The car hadn’t fully been put into park when Stiles opened the door, walking as fast as he could to close the space between them. When Derek finally caught sight of Stiles the tension in his face dropped. All of the stress he had been holding for the past month was vanishing, as the people he sought to protect were finally there, safe and in person. He looked past Stiles and could see Braeden in the driver’s seat, along with Scott and Lydia in the back. He had almost thought Peter would be there to get him, but it wasn’t a complete shock that he wasn’t. The thought hadn’t even left his mind when he felt Stiles collide into him. 

“You really thought we were just going to let you disappear?” His arms wrapped around Derek’s shoulders and Derek felt himself sink his weight into Stiles. He wasn’t as strong as he used to be and the weight of finally seeing everyone again suddenly seemed too much. He gripped the back of Stiles’ shirt, holding onto the fabric like it was the only thing holding him into this realm. It was so good to see plaid again. Stiles gripped onto Derek tighter, stroking the back of his head as he muttered over and over how much of an idiot Derek was. It was only a few moments before the rest of the pack joined them, Lydia and Scott both placing a hand on one of Derek’s arms as Braeden hung back. She was happy to see Derek alive and safe, but was coming to the realization that with these kids, with Stiles and Scott and Lydia and all the rest of them, was where he truly belonged. And that wasn’t her. Her life was one of traveling and secrecy; one of constant fear and hiding. She couldn’t drag Derek into that again, but she also couldn’t take herself out of it. It was her life for a reason. As much as she loved Derek, she knew she was going to have to let him go. As much as she would have preferred to have him by her side, she knew that it just wasn’t in the cards. Derek had too many people who cared about him. One of the keys to being a good mercenary is not having anyone rely on you, not having anyone to endanger should you be captured. That would never be Derek. Even though the scowl on his face would make you think otherwise, his heart was too big to live the same kind of life as Braeden. 

A hand reached out, the other still wrapped tightly around Stiles, searching for Braeden’s touch. She took a step forward and took Derek’s hand, completing the circle and finally giving Derek the peace of knowing all of the people he cared about the most were there. 

It wasn’t long before a second car pulled into the lot. Lydia, Scott and Braeden stepped away from Derek, giving him the chance to look. Stiles still stayed by Derek’s side, afraid to let go of him for fear of him being lost again. Even though he wasn’t going anywhere, Stiles wasn’t going to risk it, and Derek didn’t mind that at all. Keeping Stiles safe was the entire reason he left in the first place, and he knew the absolute safest place for Stiles right now was next to him. 

The driver of the car stepped out first, a tall man, always covered in leather and carrying a gun: Chris Argent. Malia stepped out of one side of the backseats and bounded towards them, searching for Scott as she got closer, but taking a spot next to Braeden once she got to the front door. The other backseat door opened and out stumbled Theo and Liam, grins on both of their faces as one reached for the other’s hand. Derek was a little taken aback by this turn of events, but wasn’t completely surprised if he was being honest with himself. The passenger door finally opened and out stepped Peter Hale. He looked slightly annoyed to be there and he whispered to Chris before they both headed towards the group. Normally Derek would have been able to hear what was whispered, but he was too weak to put in the effort needed. He heard the door behind him open and Sam, Dean, Cameron and Isaac stepped out.   
“Isaac!” Lydia screeched, as she wrapped her arms around the boy, her feet pointing into tip-toe as her tiny frame struggled to reach the top of his lanky one. Normally Stiles would have objected by now, but, after two years of not seeing Isaac, he figured he’d let this one slide. Chris, Theo, Liam and Peter had made it up to the estate by now and Chris reached his hand out to shake Dean’s. 

“Sam and Dean Winchester. I never thought I’d be meeting you, especially not in France.” 

“Chris Argent. We never thought we’d be meeting a member of the Argent family, either,   
although the France part sounds about right.” 

The group laughed heartily as introductions were made and reunions were allowed to happen. Everyone wanted to get a hand on Derek, whether it was a hug, a handshake or just a simple touch onto his shoulder. Everyone that was, except for Peter. The look in his eyes was obvious, if not an out of place look for Peter Hale: guilt. Everyone knew Peter was the reason Mary Winchester was dead. He was the reason Sam and Dean felt like calling in the British Men of Letters was the only choice they had. He was the reason so many, including Mason, had died. Peter Hale had done a lot of monstrous things in his lifetime, but, somehow, this was the worst. Sam, Dean and Cameron went indoors first, motioning for the rest of the group to follow them. Chris Argent quickly followed, with Theo and Liam in tow, their fingers still interlaced. Scott gripped Derek’s shoulder, giving him a nod as he motioned for Malia and the two headed inside. Braeden kissed Derek on the cheek and headed indoors, her eyes filled with sadness. 

“Stiles, we need to go inside. Come on. Derek will be ok.” Lydia placed her hand on Stiles’ chest, her other latching onto his hand that wasn’t holding onto Derek. Stiles gave a longing look at Derek, slowly letting his grip on him lessen. Derek let their embrace fall, but quickly reached out and pulled Stiles into a hug. Lydia smiled. There was never any jealousy from her when it came to Derek Hale. She knew a part of Stiles would always be connected to him, that a bit of his heart and soul would always belong to Derek. But she also knew that, no matter what, Stiles would be there for her and love her just the same. 

If it was possible for Lydia to believe in soulmates, there would have to be a clause about a person having two. Stiles definitely did. More and more she was getting the feeling that she did, too, as her eyes peered into the French headquarters, searching for the familiar smile of Parrish, who she had yet to see. Stiles and Derek finally let go of each other and Lydia pulled Stiles inside, leaving Derek alone with Peter. Normally she would never leave anyone alone with Peter, but they were all going to be indoors, making sure nothing could happen, not that anything would. For once, Lydia believed in Peter and the small bit of humanity that he still contained. She never thought she would see the day when he showed remorse, but she believed wholeheartedly that Peter was sorry for what he did. Stiles gave one last longing look to Derek before Lydia shut the heavy wooden door, leaving the remainder of the Hale family together at last.


	34. Chapter 34

The American group of hunters and werewolves immediately wanted a tour of the French compound, one that Cameron was more than happy to give. They hadn’t been walking very long before they were met by his sister, Celestine, who immediately started speaking in rapid sign language. Everyone sat in silence, amazed by how quickly her and Cameron’s hands moved. Lydia, of course, knew a little bit of LSF and was able to say hello to Celestine and introduce herself. Everyone else had to rely on Cameron, who tediously finger-spelled every single person’s name for his sister. Celestine beamed as she met everyone; they didn’t often have visitors in the Men of the Letters headquarters, for the obvious reason of keeping the compound secure. 

They made their way through the maze of corridors, visiting the armory, the dorms, the kitchen and every other room that was available. On their way past the dorms, they passed the small medical unit, which stood mostly empty except for a few occupied beds. Lydia immediately recognized the one on the far end. She broke away from the group and ran inside, her heart racing as she got closer to Parrish. His eyes were closed and his breathing was steady, but even her touch didn’t wake him. She pulled his hand towards her face, lightly brushing her lips against his knuckles as tears formed in her eyes. 

“What happened?” 

Cameron, Scott and Stiles had followed her in, everyone else standing outside, eyes wide with curiosity and fear for their friend. 

“We aren’t sure. When the ambush happened in St. Jean-de-Luz he had been locked in a cell but was very much awake and alert. A few of our members saw Ketch say something to him before he was killed, but no one saw anything else out of the ordinary. When the dust settled, he was unconscious in his cell. We haven’t been able to wake him up since.” 

Scott and Stiles both reached a hand up to place on Lydia’s shoulders, as she gripped Parrish’s hand tighter. 

“Is there any way I can stay in here? With him?” 

Cameron nodded and motioned a woman towards him, speaking to her in rapid French as he pointed to Lydia and the several empty beds that surrounded Parrish. Never letting go of his hand, Lydia sat down in the chair next to his bed, her eyes filled with worry. She laid a kiss on the back of his hand again, whispering words into his knuckles so quietly that Scott was the only one who heard the quiet pleads for Parrish to return. Cameron motioned for the rest of them to leave the two be, Scott having to use force to pull Stiles away. They rejoined the rest of the group in the corridor and continued their tour, leaving Lydia to rest with Parrish in the desperate hopes that the Hellhound would wake up. 

They made their way back to the foyer just inside the front door, rejoining the Winchesters and the Hales, the four of which were standing in a circle, sharing various stories about their adventures with the supernatural. Sam and Dean were fascinated to learn the history of the Hale family and Derek and Peter were only too happy to fill them in on Talia, Laura, Cora and the rest of the Hale werewolves. Stiles immediately reclaimed his spot next to Derek, his fingers gently brushing his forearm as he asked Derek if he was doing okay. Derek nodded but admitted that he was getting tired and Stiles asked Cameron where he could maybe take Derek to get some rest. Cameron pointed them in the way of the drawing room, stating that dinner would be ready soon and they could wait in there until then. The pair took off and Scott started to follow them before Malia’s hand reached out to grab his arm. She shook her head silently, sending a message to Scott with her eyes that the two needed to be left alone. Scott understood immediately and nodded. He felt like he and Malia needed some time alone, too, and he nodded in the direction of the dorms. The two of them took off, leaving Theo, Liam, the Beachard twins, Peter and the Winchesters in the foyer. Braeden had long disappeared, taking off to meet with Armand Beachard almost as soon as she entered the headquarters. Liam pulled on Theo’s arm, hoping to follow Scott and Malia in the direction of the dorms, but the grin on his face indicating he wanted to be alone for much more devious reasons than the older wolves. Theo wrapped his fingers in Liam’s and the two were gone. 

The Beachards looked at the remaining members of the group. 

“It seems that everyone is settling in nicely. Why don’t you all relax and we’ll find you when it’s time for dinner?” 

The Winchesters nodded and headed in the direction of the kitchen; they had been wanting to maybe lay down for a nap while they waited on dinner but were unwilling to be in the dorms at the same time as Theo and Liam when the two boys had just left with those sinister looks on their faces. Dean knew the expression all too well and he would have rather taken on a vampire bare-handed than find out first hand if one of those two was a screamer. He had had the misfortunate of overhearing one of them... having a religious experience in the bathroom on the plane and that was more than enough for Dean. Cameron and Celestine shared a look, the latter signing quickly that she hadn’t realized Theo and Liam were a couple, which made Cameron laugh. It was only obvious that the two were involved, his sister was just blind when it came towards reading others’ feelings. It was probably why she had yet to realize that Isaac Lahey was in love with her. Not that it mattered, she was very happy with her girlfriend, Codi, but Cameron knew she would be seeing her friend with a different set of eyes once she finally figured it out. The twins went their separate ways, Celestine off to find the aforementioned girlfriend as Cameron went off to join his father in the meeting with Braeden. Apparently, some changes were coming to the French Men of Letters and he was all too excited to be finding out what those changes were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LSF: langue des signes français, or French sign language. It's the language used by the deaf and hard of hearing in France and the French speaking parts of Switzerland.


	35. Chapter 35

“I thought we were never going to find you,” Stiles murmured, his heart pounding as he looked again at the figure of Derek Hale. He was so different since the last time he had saw him, yet he would always be the same old Derek. 

It was their first moment of being alone since the pack had gotten to France to reunite with their friends. Stiles was thankful Derek had so many people who loved him and worried enough about him to fly across the ocean to make sure he was safe, but he ached for a moment or two for just them. They had their brief moments in the past few hours: a glance here, a slight graze of hands there, but it wasn’t enough. Derek slowly sunk into the armchair next to the fire, suddenly looking like the old man that matched his soul. If Stiles had to guess, he would say Derek was approaching the age of 70, rather than the 30 that he really was. Those British pricks had done a number on him. 

“For a second, I never thought you were, either. I knew better than not to believe in Scott’s pack, though. To not believe in you. You guys have been through a lot. You’ve fought worse demons then some English assholes.” 

He laughed and then quickly grimaced. Three broken ribs, at least that’s what Deaton had last said when he looked at the scans. It was going to be awhile before Derek would be able to laugh fully. Stiles sat down on the ottoman next to Derek, his eyes deep within the flames curling in the fireplace. 

“You don’t understand. All of those other demons we fought? They were just that. Monsters. The British Men of Letters… they were… human.” 

“Sometimes humans are the scariest monster there is.” 

“Tell me about it. I’ve watched enough serial killer documentaries to know humans are scary as shit. But if a human had killed you... if a human was the reason we’d never get to see you again... I’m not sure I would have been able to live with that, Derek. Werewolves, hellhounds, the Wild Hunt, those are all within the realm of monsters that I can’t handle. I’m only human. I don’t have the super strength or speed or agility. I can’t do what you and Scott can. But I can outsmart a human; I can beat man at his greatest game. Knowing that you could have died because I wasn’t good enough…" 

“No. Stiles, no. You say you are only human and that you can’t do what Scott and I can. I have those abilities and I was still taken. Look at me. I’m still alive because of you. Because you, a human, wouldn’t stop until I was found.” 

Derek reached a hand out, waiting in silence as Stiles stared at it. Derek had never been one to need physical touch. In fact, he usually recoiled from it, used to the years of pain that touch from a loved one had brought him. Stiles slowly grabbed his hand, gingerly holding Derek’s fingers in his own. The next words he said were barely above a whisper. 

“I love you.” 

Stiles kept his eyes focused on Derek’s hands, practically memorizing the lines cut into his fingers. Although they had been implied many times over the years, the words had never been said out loud until now. 

“I know.” 

Derek smiled gently and rubbed his thumb against Stiles’ palm. He let the silence take over, the only thing in the room making a sound being the crackling of the fire and the deep breaths of Stiles. They sat like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying the rare moment of quiet that the two of them never got. Slowly, Stiles stood up, keeping a hold of Derek’s hand all the while. He gently pressed his lips onto Derek’s head, taking in the scent of him as he lingered over him. 

“Wait, did you just... did you ‘Star Wars’ me?” 

“I’ve never seen a single ‘Star Wars’ movie, Stiles.” 

Stiles immediately jerked back; the look of disgust plastered all over his face. 

“...how?” he whispered; his mouth still agape at the thought of someone living in the 21st century not having seen a Star Wars movie, let alone Scott, Liam and Derek. Every time he learned something new about Derek, the feeling of awe that they even happened to find each other still amazed him. These were two people with nothing at all in common. The universe practically made it so that one wouldn’t exist to the other. Yet, here they were, sitting together in a mansion in France, their hands still holding one another. There was a knock at the door and it slowly creeped open. Sam stood in the doorframe and he almost burst out laughing at the sight of the two of them: Derek, sunken into the thick leather of an armchair, holding the hand of Stiles, who looked like he had just smelled something unpleasant. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, really, I am, but Chris wanted to talk with everyone about how we’re getting back to the States before dinner is ready.” 

Derek nodded and let go of Stiles’ hand, pressing his palms into his thighs as he used the force of his body in motion in order to pull himself upright. Stiles’ hands stood in the air the whole time, ready to catch Derek should he teeter in any direction. They quickly came down as Derek whipped his head in his direction. Despite everything he had gone through, he wasn’t about to be babied by anyone, especially Stiles. Sam could see it in his eyes, though, he needed Stiles there more than anyone could ever truly understand.


	36. Chapter 36

The trio made their way into the dining room, a vast wooden table smack in the middle of a giant sea of white. The walls, the tile, the cabinets: all looked untouched, pristine and as pure as new snow. Stiles was fairly certain this might have been the first time the dining room had actually been used. Scott and Malia stood at the far end of the room; their bodies so close that they should have been touching but the slightest fraction of dead space stood between them. Moving clockwise around the table, Peter was next, his head hunched over a book of some sorts as he spoke quietly to Chris and Dean. Lydia was standing on the other side of the Winchester brother, taking in every detail while still keeping her eyes on the doorframe, watching for Stiles and Derek, everyone surprised she had been willing to leave Parrish’s bedside. Directly across from her sat Theo and Liam, perched onto two wooden chairs that had been pulled out away from the table, their limbs all tangled together. Sam wasn’t even sure they knew they were doing it, as Theo turned toward Isaac and Cameron, to ask a question about the French compound. Celestine stood on the other side of her brother, signing furiously to a man who could have only been Armand Beachard. His hair was white-blonde, just like his children’s, and he had the same deep, dark eyes as Cameron. Just his presence gave off the feeling of importance, like being in the midst of a king or an ancient god of war. His eyes gave him away though, as he stared lovingly at his daughter, trying to keep up with pace of story-telling. 

The room went quiet as they realized Stiles and Derek had returned. Liam hopped off of his seat, almost falling onto his face as he realized his left ankle was wrapped around Theo’s, offering a space for Derek to sit down. He scowled as he sat; he was a realist and knew he would tire before too long if he decided to stay standing but he still didn’t like everyone jumping to their feet to offer him a place to sit. 

“Welcome back.” Chris gave a smile to Derek, before turning to address the rest of the group.   
“The French have been kind enough to allow us to borrow their organizational plane to Paris.” The group cheered as everyone clapped in the direction of the Beachards. “Unfortunately, they don’t have the aircraft available to support trans-Atlantic travel so we’ll be flying commercial back home.” 

“Boooooo,” emitted Stiles, a mischievous smile forming over his face. “You mean they can’t give us all our own private jet home? Cameron, c’mon!” 

Cameron held his hands up in defeat, laughing with the rest of the group. 

“I’ll bring it up with the Director.” 

Everyone then turned to look at Armand, who was doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with anyone, causing more laughter to erupt from the room. 

“Yes, yes, it’s a tragedy,” Chris chuckled as he continued on. “Now most of us will be flying home together, but we did have to separate us a little bit. Scott, Stiles, Derek, Lydia, Theo, Liam—you'll be with me on the 8:30 flight to Boston where we’ll catch a connecting flight to LA. Peter, Sam and Dean—you'll be on the 9:00 AM flight to Atlanta. Same situation, land and catch a connecting flight to LA. Everyone got it?” 

“Wait,” Lydia mumbled in between laughter, a smile still on her face as she turned towards Chris. “You forgot Malia.” 

“No, he didn’t.” 

The room fell silent as they all turned towards Malia, who had widened the gap between her and Scott by several inches now. His smile faded as he looked at her. 

“Malia, what... what do you mean?” 

“I’m not coming back to California.” 

A collective gasp fell across the room, everyone sharing glances as they wondering what she could possibly mean. 

“I’m staying here. With Braeden. And the Beachards, of course.” 

Braeden walked out of the woodwork then, her hand raised as she gave off a slight smile. Everyone in the group seemed stunned, except for Cameron, Celestine, Armand and Chris. 

“I don’t... I don’t understand,” Lydia exclaimed, sitting in total shock, her eyes wide. 

“I want to join the French Men of Letters. Become a hunter.” 

“But you’re a werewolf,” Liam interjected, his face innocent as Theo smacked the back of his head, snapping at him for being rude. 

“Thanks, Liam. I didn’t know. I’m still fully aware of my werewolf status, I just... I think I could do a lot of good here. Do something that I’m actually good at.” 

“Malia, are you... are you sure?” Scott’s eyes were filled with concern as he leaned into Malia, his hand lightly grazing her arm as he spoke. She nodded. 

“I love you guys, you know I do. But I never really fit in in Beacon Hills. This is the fresh start I need.” 

The room stayed in silence but the expressions on everyone’s faces changed. Malia was right. She had never truly fit into the McCall pack. She had lived her entire life on her own, in the wild, and couldn’t fully acclimate to the life of a pack member. Seeing the French Men of Letters in action, seeing what they did on a daily basis had really opened Malia’s eyes. There was more out there than Beacon Hills and so much more that she could be doing. Whereas her quickness to fight was a hindrance in the McCall pack, in France it would be an advantage. Knowing how to survive on her own wasn’t really a skill she needed in Beacon Hills; she’d be able to use her skills every day with the Men of Letters. Scott put on a half-smile, letting his hand fall from Malia’s arm. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her grateful gaze starting first at Scott and then circling around the room to the rest of her friends. She knew they would understand. 

Chris cleared his throat, breaking the tension that still covered the room, and continued on his explanation of the time tables for the next day. As much as he enjoyed being in France, spending time with the Men of Letters and the Winchesters, he was eager to get back to Beacon Hills. With a nod of agreement, the rest of the room indicated they knew what the plans were, all of them starting to wonder when dinner would be ready, as a few stomachs growled loudly. Cameron stuck his head into the attached room, presumably the kitchen, mumbling something in French before returning. 

“I think we could all go eat, if you’re ready.” 

“Oh, thank God,” Liam mumbled, practically sprinting towards the far door. The kitchen was much smaller than the dining and very obviously used often by the members of the French Men of Letters. It was dark but smell like heaven. Every counter was full of food, as the French had prepared to feed the army that was the McCall pack. Soups, breads, cheeses and more filled the counters, sitting in-between various quiches and croque madams. Bottles of wine were open everywhere and Chris had to watch carefully over who reached towards a bottle, swatting at Liam’s hand more than once. The legal drinking age in France was 18 but he wasn’t going to deal with a bunch of hungover kids the next day when they had to be up at the crack of dawn to fly to Paris. Everyone grabbed plates and bowls and filled them to the brim, having not had anything to eat in a while besides old pizza and junk food. 

They all wandered back into the dining room, taking their seats and filling the usually empty room with the smells of dinner. The entire room soon warmed up, the air thick with conversation and laughter. For the first time in a long time, the McCall pack could forget their troubles. They were all together again. They finished eating—well, everyone except for Liam who seemed to be able to eat five times his body weight—and simply enjoyed being in the warmth of the dining room with everyone they loved. Coffee was made and passed around the table, the rich smell further relaxing everyone there. Scott looked around and smiled, his hands reaching across the table towards a particularly delicious looking dessert, wrapping his hand around the warm pastry, feeling the chocolate inside start to ooze. With everything they had been through the past few days, this moment made him realize how much it was worth it. The fighting, the agony, the defeat—as long as he kept his friends safe and could see their smiles again, everything was worth it. The moment was soon lost, however, with the flutter of wings and the sound of feet hitting the floor.


	37. Chapter 37

Castiel had made his way into the dining room, his blue eyes deep in concentration as he finished a phone call. 

“That was Crowley,” he said, his voice flat as he spoke of the King of Hell much like one would speak of a distance relative that they hardly knew. “He has an idea about the Hellhound.” The group perked up, turning their heads away from their food towards the angel. The French had been working on Parrish since he had arrived in France but still had little idea as to what was wrong with him. Castiel and the Winchesters knew that no one would know more about Hellhounds than Crowley, so they reached out to their old friend/enemy to see what information he could give them. 

“There’s a spell, a Gaelic one, that can put a Hellhound into a deep sleep. The only way to wake them up is to utter their true name.” 

“So... someone just has to go in there and say ‘Jordan Parrish’ and he’ll just wake up?” Malia’s mouth was still full of bread, her words fighting to make it to the surface under a sea of baguette. 

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Malia. Parrish is his human name. We need his Hellhound name.” 

The room fell silent. No one even realized he had a Hellhound name, let alone knew what it was. 

“Is there any other way to break the spell? Are we even sure that’s what’s wrong with him?” Lydia mumbled, her eyes darting back and forth as her mind raced. Surely, he had mentioned his name in passing. She just had to remember it. All she had to do was remember the name and he could be brought back to her. 

Castiel shook his head. Crowley’s mother was a powerful witch and even she had a hard time finding the spell, let alone coming up with any kind of reverse besides the utterance of the Hellhounds true name. Everyone in the room was deep in thought, trying to think of how exactly they were going to figure out what Parrish’s true name was. 

“It has to be you, Lydia.” Scott said what everyone had been thinking. As a banshee, she was another harbinger of death, just like a Hellhound, and had a stronger connection to Parrish than anyone else in the room ever would have. Lydia already seemed to be aware of that, nodding as she silently stood up, making her way back to the infirmary. Stiles quickly followed her, with Scott just behind him, and the rest of the kitchen slowly following one-by-one, except for Chris, Peter and Braeden. Lydia was silent the entire time she walked and remaining that way as she sat down next to Parrish’s bed, taking his hand in hers. She raised his hands to her face, resting her forehead into them as she continued to think. Scott could hear her whispering but couldn’t quite make out the words. 

“Fire,” she whispered over and over, her voice becoming louder with each utterance of the word. Scott twisted his frame around, his eyes asking the question to Cameron without uttering a word. Cameron whispered to a few of the nurses who had gathered around, one of them pulling a lighter out of her pocket. Cameron threw the lighter at Lydia who caught it without even looking back. She flicked the lighter and brought the flame to Parrish’s face, the heat only a few inches away from his skin. Scott thought she was going to press the lighter to his face, but, instead, her cupped her hands around the flame, her scream quickly filling the room, causing everyone to press their hands over their ears as the walls started to shake. The flame spread from the lighter into Lydia’s hand. She stared at it, her eyes slowly beginning to go from their usual green color to the bright yellow hue of the flame. She moved her hand Parrish’s chest, placing it directly over his heart as the flames spread from her hand across his chest. The fire creeped along her arm, making its way to her face until her entire head was covered in it, her red hair now the bright gold of flame. 

“Parrish,” she flatly stated, the words escaping her lips with a breath that caused the flames around her face to wisp out. Without warning, Parrish’s left hand reached out, gripping Lydia’s arm as the flame wound from her arm down his. She gasped and screamed again. Scott could feel his bones shake and he felt the warm stream of blood falling from his face as his nose started to bleed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malia fall, Theo quickly reaching out to catch her. If Lydia was going to do this, it needed to be soon, before she killed everyone in the French compound with her banshee screams. 

“Garmr.” 

The world was barely a whisper. Honestly, Scott hadn’t even realized it was a word until he saw Parrish’s eyes shoot open, his irises red, aflame from the fires of Hell itself. The flames on Lydia died as she fell forward, her energy spent from reaching into the underworld to find Parrish’s name. Parrish caught her in his arms, the flames dying from his skin, too, as his eyes turned from red back to their normal brown. In a hushed tone he whispered Lydia’s name, stroking her hair, letting his hand linger over her cheek. Scott reached over and gently grabbed Stiles, slowly backing his way out of the room. He quickly realized they were the only two left. Theo had already left when Malia passed out, Liam quickly following behind the pair. Castiel had whisked the Winchesters out of the room once the banshee had started screaming; Celestine and Cameron being dragged out by their father shortly after. He had already lost one child to a banshee; he wasn’t going to add another. 

“She did it, Stiles. Now let’s leave them be.” 

Stiles slowly nodded and his face changed as he looked at Parrish holding onto Lydia. His hands gripped her with the gentleness of a new parent but also with the ferocity of someone holding onto a ledge for their life. He would do anything to protect her, but also needed her to keep him from the brink of the underworld. Stiles made his way out of the room with Scott, his eyes sad as he took one last look at Lydia, who was starting to regain consciousness, her face filled with wonder as she looked at Parrish. 

“Parrish,” she whispered, her mouth barely moving to form the letters, “you’re back.” He smiled and stroked her hair, his eyes scanning over every part of her face to make sure she was ok. 

“Yeah, I am. Because of you. You did it, Lydia.” 

She smiled again, her hand reaching for Parrish’s face as she muttered “Garmr.” The utterance of his Hellhound name made new flames curl over his body, the fire licking his skin as it enclosed both him and Lydia into a capsule of protection. She slowly sat up, using Parrish as a crutch to bring her body forward. She was still sitting in his lap but her face was now even with his, the fire curling around the two of them, causing her hair to whip back and forth. She stared into his eyes, soaking in the deep brown which was becoming more and more red with each second, before she gently pressed her lips to his. The fire died as his hand made his way to her face, the contact of skin to skin turning his body back from the Hellhound to human. She kissed him again, her arms wrapping themselves across his shoulders, as his hand drew her body in by the waist. Every inch of their bodies was touching the other, the space between gone. 

“I need you, Lydia,” he cooed, the words thick and sweet as they hung in the air. Lydia was slightly taken aback, her eyes darting across his face as she unhooked her hands from his shoulders and slid them down his chest. She leaned forward to kiss him, but paused, taking a breath as her mouth hung just above his. She kissed him hard but quickly, leaning her forehead onto his as she let the passion die. There was only so much Lydia could take in one night. She slowly made her way off of his lap, sliding into the chair next to his bed while still holding onto his hand. They sat like that for a few minutes, until one of the nurses finally decided it was the correct time to interrupt them. She explained to Lydia that they needed to look Parrish over, make sure everything was medically ok, and that they only needed her to leave the room for a few minutes. She relayed everything back to Parrish, insisting she would be just outside the door until she was allowed back in. He nodded and released her hand, his own falling onto the bed, his soot-covered skin in stark contrast against the white sheets. 

She walked out of the infirmary and immediately found Scott and Stiles. Much like the nurses, they were waiting for just the right time to interrupt. Scott placed an arm on Lydia’s shoulder and smiled; he was proud of what she had done to help break the spell that was over Parrish. He remembered the days when she didn’t even know she was supernatural, now she was harboring her powers in ways that they hadn’t even realized were possible. She gave a weak smile and nodded her head in the direction of the hallway, clearly giving Scott the signal that she needed some time alone with Stiles. He nodded and patted her shoulder, making eye contact with Stiles just before stepping away. The two were left alone, silence hanging in the air as they both struggled with what they wanted to say. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered first, her eyes meeting Stiles’s for the first time. She had expected him to be angry but all she saw was sadness. 

“I know I’ve told you before, but I’ve had a crush on you since the third grade. For years, I wondered what it would be like to have you. But something was always in the way: you were dating Jackson, I dated Malia, you dated Aiden, I... you know... got taken by the Wild Hunt. When you told me you loved me, I thought: this is it. The moment I’ve waited so long for. But it hasn’t been the fantasy I hoped it would be.” 

“But I do love you, Stiles, I do.” 

“And I love you, Lydia. But I don’t think we’re ever going to love each other in the same way.” 

He smiled weakly and stared into the infirmary, Parrish still being worked on by a team of nurses. Even when the two of them were together, something was always in the way. He felt guilty for putting the blame on Lydia when he could remember a time in the not-so-distant past when he told a particular sour-wolf that he loved him. 

“Go,” he murmured, his hand gesturing towards the infirmary. “Be with him.” There was no anger in his voice, no bitterness. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but his love for Lydia had changed. He would still do anything for her, be anything she needed him to be. Right now, what she needed was a friend; he could do that. He could be a friend. She reached up on her tip-toes and kissed Stiles on the cheek, whispering ‘I love you’ into his ear before she turned and walked away, leaving Stiles by himself in the hallway, wondering where it had all gone wrong.


	38. Chapter 38

Cameron walked into his father’s office, only expecting the Director and Braeden, and was surprised to also see Malia Tate. Or Malia Hale. He couldn’t remember which name she preferred, as he took the seat next to her, the leather of the chair creaking as he sat. 

“Cameron, I’m happy you’re here.” His father had a heavy French accent, having been born and raised in the south of France. Their mother, Maeve, was originally from Ireland, and the dulcet tones of her Irish accent kept Cameron from ever developing the same, thick accent as his father. 

“As I mentioned, we are making some changes here in France. I know Malia stated at dinner that she wanted to join and we are welcoming her in gladly. Her training will start at the beginning of next week.” Malia beamed; her excitement evident at the prospect of becoming a member of the Men of Letters. 

“Our second change is one that we’ve kept a secret. I’m stepping down as Director.” 

Cameron’s mouth gaped open. All he had ever known of his father was him being in the Men of Letters. He was pretty sure Armand had taught him how to throw a knife before even bothering to potty train him. He wasn’t sure what his father was going to do without the position. 

“I know, I know. It’s a shock, I can tell. But it’s time to get some new blood in here, a fresh perspective. Which is why I’m going to make you and Celestine my replacements as co-directors.” 

Cameron was even more stunned with this news. His father really wanted to put him and his sister in charge? The twins were only 24. 

“Braeden will also be joining our team. I want to make her an assistant director, working just underneath you and Celestine, but hopefully being your equal in decision making.” Cameron nodded. Adding Braeden to the board of directors was the first sane thing his father had said all evening. 

“I haven’t had a chance to break the news to your sister yet. But, once I do, I want you to discuss. Take your time in making your decision, but know that this is what I want, 100%. I have all of my faith in you and I know you two will do an amazing job.” 

“What... what are you and mom going to do?” 

Armand laughed. 

“I’m retiring, not dying! Your mother and I will still be around. We just might also take that vacation to the Maldives that we have been talking about for years. I was already a father and an agent myself at your age. I hadn’t had the lifetime of training that you had. You’re going to be outstanding, Cameron.” 

Face still pale, he stole a look at Malia and Braeden, both of whom were beaming. He felt his body relax and he knew his father couldn’t talk with Celestine soon enough. He desperately needed to talk with his sister, to see what her thoughts were about the entire thing. Half of him was excited about taking on the role of director, the other half of him wanted to just pass it on to Braeden. 

“Thank you, Papa.” 

He reached out to shake his father’s hand, turning around to shake hands with Braeden and Malia as well. He swallowed hard and left the room, his mind spinning with everything that had unfolded in the past twenty-four hours. 

Malia and Braeden soon followed, thanking Armand for everything he was doing to welcome them into the French Men of Letters. The two slowly made their way to the dorms, silent even though their minds were racing with possibilities. Malia’s room came first, but she stopped just outside of her door, her werewolf senses picking up on noises in the room next that she desperately didn’t need to hear. She grimaced and looked at Braeden, who hadn’t heard a thing but understood Malia’s face. 

“Theo and Liam?” 

“Worse. It’s Peter and... a nurse from the infirmary?” 

Braeden’s face was shocked but she said nothing. 

“Ugh, it’s so... gross. Please, Braeden, can I stay with you?” 

The older girl caved easily, not wanting Malia to have to listen to her father all night, nodding her head towards the end of the hall where her dorm room was located. The two slipped inside, squinting as Braeden flipped on the lights, filling the room with the dull glow of fluorescence. She locked the door behind her, quietly slipping out of her shoes, following almost immediately by her clothes. She walked over to the small dresser in the room in only her underwear, not at all noticing the looks from Malia as she dug around for something to sleep in. 

“You’re beautiful,” was all Malia could whisper, as she looked down at her own body, her eyes darting back and forth between hers and Braeden’s. 

“Girl, stop,” Braeden laughed as she slipped a tank top over her head, the bright white a stark contrast to her dark skin. “I only wish I was half as pretty as you.” A smile erupted over Malia’s face. She quickly realized that she hadn’t stopped into her room to get anything to wear to sleep; she was far too occupied at being away from Peter as quickly as possible. Braeden threw a shirt her way, a blue camisole that was almost the exact same color as Malia’s eyes when she turned into a were-coyote. The two slipped into the twin bed, their backs against each other as Malia faced the wall and Braeden faced out into the room. Malia sighed and rolled over slowly, her arm reaching across Braeden’s body as she pulled her in. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her face buried in Braeden’s hair, “I like to cuddle.” 

Braeden only smiled and moved her arm up so that it was over Malia’s. For weeks she had only felt torment in her body as they hunted and searched for Derek. For weeks she wondered if the man she loved was dead because of her, because of the lifestyle she chose to live, as a mercenary, as an Omega. Derek was safe but her anguish only changed to heartbreak as she realized she was going to have to let him go. Even though the weeks’ worth of agony was lifted, her soul couldn’t help but still feel a little black as she saw Derek return to the arms of Stiles. But, as she interlaced her fingers in Malia’s, Braeden came to realize that maybe it was for the best. That the breaking of one heart could lead to the molding of another. She heard Malia start to breathe deeply, steady, and she closed her own eyes, eager to start her new life as part of the French Men of Letters.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief sex scene

3 A.M. rolled around much quicker than Liam had hoped. The alarm seemed louder than normal; Liam assumed it was because they were in a training compound for hunters. No one could be allowed to sleep in here. He nuzzled his face into Theo’s chest, wishing for just five more minutes. He heard a knock at the door and sighed, his wish vanishing with each rasping at the door. 

“We’re awake!” 

“We’re out in 15 minutes,” the voice of Chris was firm through the door as Liam heard his footsteps make their way down the hall, knocking on each door with the same ferocity and quickness. Because of their early start, they hadn’t left much time for a leisurely start to the morning. Liam started to get out of bed but was quickly pulled back by Theo, who wrapped both of his arms firmly across Liam’s chest. Liam made an exaggerated sigh but still snuggled his body back into Theo’s. 

“Theo... Theo... we have to get up.” 

“Noooooo,” Theo murmured into Liam’s back, his breath warm on his skin. “Let’s just stay here forever. You can’t make me move.” 

Liam turned his body around so that he was facing Theo. His long eyelashes grazed his cheeks as he kept his eyes forcibly closed, his arms wrapping tighter around Liam. “Bet,” Liam whispered as he slid his hand down Theo’s boxers, the latter’s eyes exploding open before settling into their usual devious smirk. He stroked Theo until he relaxed, his hold on Liam loosening as he got hard. With an exit in sight, Liam quickly pulled his hand out and brushed a kiss onto Theo’s cheek before rolling out of the bed and away from Theo’s reach. He grabbed his clothes and opened the door, his plan to take the fastest shower imaginable still not completely destroyed. A smile on his face, he turned back to Theo, who laid in the bed with a look of complete and utter betrayal on his face. 

“Better hurry up, Theo. Van leaves in 10 minutes.” 

He shut the door to the sound of Theo yelling, smiling as he ran to the shower and threw his clothes on his still-wet body. He bounded down to the kitchen, grabbing some kind of roll and a cup of coffee, which Lydia was pouring out by the dozen into paper cups, handing them to every person that walked through the door. It only took a few minutes for Theo to appear, his hair a mess and his eyes still filled with sleep. He scowled at Liam as he grabbed a coffee, chugging the entire cup without even a flinch as the scalding liquid destroyed his entire mouth and burned all the way down. 

“You’re going to regret that, Dumb-bar,” he murmured into Liam’s ear as he walked past him, heading back to the dorms to get their bags as he grabbed a croissant off the counter. Within a few minutes, everyone else had done the same, a small crowd of people forming in the foyer of the French headquarters. Cameron and Celestine had both woken up at the crack of dawn with the McCall pack, ready to say good-bye to their new friends. Stiles reached for Cameron first, a smile on his face as he embraced him. 

“Thank you. You know, for everything,” his head tilted towards Derek as he said the last word and Cameron just nodded. He repeated the process with Celestine, Cameron relaying the message back to her in sign. 

The group was truly a sight to see. Theo and Liam appeared to be in some kind of spat, although the former was still standing with his back against the latter, paying more attention to the pastry in his hand than was really necessary. Lydia was hyped up on more caffeine than normal, her green eyes wide as she walked around the group, making sure everyone else had their caffeine fix and were ready to get a move on. Scott had his eyes closed and appeared to be asleep, but brought a coffee cup up to his lips every couple of seconds, his nose crinkling with each sip. He hated coffee. Isaac was leaning onto this friend, his eyes closed and mouth open. He might have really been asleep standing up. Malia and Braeden were still in the kitchen, making a fresh batch of coffee, along with black tea for Braeden. Parrish stood with the Winchester brothers, Peter and Chris, who all seemed entirely too alert for how early it was in the morning. 

Chris whistled once sharply and everyone piled outside, the group taking one last look, knowing this was probably their first, last and only time in France. Isaac followed them outside, giving all of them one last hug as they worked their way into the small plane that would be taking them to Paris. Malia ran out of the door and towards the plane, her eyes desperate to see everyone off. She climbed on board and insisted everyone get out of their seats to hug her, starting with her father, Peter, who was less than eager, but still got up and gave his daughter a quick side-arm hug. Everyone on board watched out of their windows as Malia, Isaac, Braeden and the Beachard twins stood on the airstrip, waving until the plane had turned out of view. 

The short flight cross-country was a silent one, everyone trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep before they had to be herded through an airport and go through all of the troubles of international travel. Boarding passes and passports in hand, the group stayed together as long as they could before having to separate to their different gates, which were, of course, on opposite ends of Charles de Galle. They all wished Chris, Peter and the Winchesters a safe flight, knowing it would only be a half a day before they would be reunited again in Beacon Hills. Chris had originally been on the flight with Scott, but with Parrish awakening and given the all-clear to go home, he found space to join the Winchesters to Atlanta, letting Parrish stay close to Lydia. Besides, Chris could do with some more time to talk to the hunter brothers, who already had a new case to work on once they were back in Beacon Hills. Apparently, there was a vampire den out in Reno that was getting out of control. Chris wondered how long he would have to wait before he could ask the Winchesters if he could join, deciding the flight back home would be the perfect time. 

Hayden and Corey were there to greet the McCall pack at LAX, Hayden holding a giant bedazzled sign which spelled ‘NERDS’ in giant, pink letters. Corey still wasn’t back to his usual self, but managed a weak smile as he hugged everyone in the group one by one. After almost fifteen hours of travel, everyone was too exhausted to speak on their way back to Beacon Hills. Scott, Stiles and Derek were in Corey’s car, the latter curled into the back seat, their hands barely touching as they slept with their faces pressed against opposite windows. Theo, Liam, Lydia and Parrish managed to squeeze themselves into Hayden’s truck. Lydia sat in the front seat while the three men were forced to pile into the back, Parrish easily able to ignore the other two as they intertwined limbs and quickly fell asleep. 

Lydia smiled as she laid her head onto the headrest, her eyes meeting Parrish’s in the rearview mirror for just a brief second. Everyone was here; everyone was safe. She felt a pang of guilt as she thought of Mary and Mason, of Allison and Aiden, Boyd and Erica. Not everyone had made it out alive over the years. But their group kept fighting, doing what they could to keep the town of Beacon Hills safe and keeping the monsters at bay. As stressful as their lives were, she knew not many of them would want to step away. Beacon Hills was home and always would be. The sign they passed indicated they were only thirty miles from their destination. She decided she would try to doze for the last leg of the trip, her eyes closing as the mountains outside of Beacon Hills slowly came into view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far: thank you, thank you! I hope you enjoyed! Part II complete and Part III is almost done. Again-- thanks for reading :)


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